


Eleven Halloweens and a Coda

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Fictober 2019, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-12-28 06:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: The eleven Halloweens Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio get together and the shenanigans they get up to.





	1. The Weird Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is technically a series of independent ficlets written in response to Fictober 2019 prompts, however they are all set in the same universe and were, from the start, planned out to make up a single story.
> 
> Thank you to @team-mom-wannabe for helping me brainstorm and providing some of the (probably better) ideas that are in here <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys set up a fortune-telling stand for Halloween. Fictober 2019 prompt: "It will be fun, trust me."

All Romeo could talk about after coming home from his first day of first grade was a boy named Mercutio. He talked about his new friend incessantly, not bothering to say anything about the teachers or any of his classes. Everything was _Mercutio said this _and _Mercutio did that. _Once she realized who exactly Mercutio was, Maddalena couldn’t help but smile sadly and think that her late husband would be proud of their son and the fact that out of all the children, he chose to befriend the mayor’s nephew. 

Usually, Maddalena would have tried harder to pry some more useful information out of Romeo about what the school was like, what the teachers were like, if that preparatory program she had spent so much money on had been worth it. But her thoughts were elsewhere those days. Her brother-in-law and his wife had died just three months ago in an accident, leaving behind a son of Romeo’s age. Since then the boy had been passed around various relatives, never staying with one family more than a few weeks. There seemed to be no consensus as to what to do with him, though everyone agreed he should not be subjected to the foster system. Despite her better judgement, Maddalena was seriously considering taking him in, if only to honor her husband’s memory. 

“Romeo,” she said, thoughtfully, breaking through the boy’s excited recounting of some outlandish thing Mercutio had done during lunch. “How would you feel if your cousin, Benvolio, came to live with us? Remember you met him at the Christmas party last year?” She did not think he remembered, as children’s memories go quickly at that age. 

Romeo scrunched up his face as though trying to remember. Finally, he shrugged. “It would be fun. But, Mom, I was telling you… So, Mercutio—”

*

By Halloween, Romeo, Benvolio and Mercutio were inseparable. And Maddalena’s attorney had just finalized the paperwork for her to be Benvolio’s official guardian.

Maddalena had never aspired to have many children, though if her husband had lived, perhaps they would have tried for a daughter. However, with him gone, she was satisfied to raise her darling Romeo and dedicate the rest of her time to her career. Things were hard enough with one child, she did not need another. 

But she was powerless against what transpired in her own house the moment Benvolio arrived. She could neither resist the boy’s sad, forlorn eyes – a child in need of love and reassurance – nor Romeo’s instant attachment to his cousin. Separating them would have been beyond even her ability for ruthlessness. 

Now, anywhere Romeo went, Benvolio followed. And Romeo usually went wherever Mercutio was. This was how Maddalena ended up babysitting_ three_ first graders on Halloween. 

*

“Thanks for letting us do this, Mrs. Montague!” Mercutio called across the lawn, grinning brightly as he set up a number of plastic glasses and bottles of juice. 

“I still don’t know what we’re doing,” Romeo complained, wistfully eyeing the bucket of candy meant for trick-or-treaters. 

“It will be fun, trust me.” Mercutio promised. He had the serious look of all small children intently focused on a task they have deemed serious and important. 

“I _still_ don’t know what we’re doing.” 

“If they say trick-or-treat, they get candy. If they pay a quarter, they get a potion and their future told!” Mercutio smoothed out the purple and black cloth that covered the plastic lawn table their array of plastic glasses, candy and juice bottles was on. Mercutio’s mother had typed up and printed labels with spooky-sounding names and Maddalena had helped the boys tape them over the juice bottles so that apple juice became “Eye-Pop Brew,” grape juice became “Mummy Brains,” and orange juice – “Goblin Guts.” 

“Why are these all so gross?” Benvolio asked, eyeing the juice labels suspiciously. “Did you come up with these?”

“Yup!”

“Ew.”

“It’s _Halloween, _Benvolio. It’s supposed to be scary.” 

“Scary isn’t the same as gross.”

“You’re gross.”

“Guys, stop,” Romeo finally put in, trying to prevent a squabble. 

Mercutio swished the cape of his vampire costume. “It’s my lair, my rules.” 

Benvolio opened his mouth to say something – Romeo would have opted for _this isn’t even your house _– but decided not to argue further. 

“You boys need any help?” Maddalena asked. 

“No, thanks, mom,” Romeo said, taping the large piece of poster board that read “WITCH STAND” to the front of the table with long strips of scotch tape.

Soon enough, the sun started to go down and the streets began to fill with children. 

“I think they’re coming here!” Romeo said, pointing excitedly at a group of children on the corner of the street. 

Mercutio glanced at his friends. “Benvolio, since you’re a ghost, whenever one of us tells someone their doom, you should make ghost noises.” 

Benvolio blinked. “Like say ‘boo’?” He flapped his arms to expand the folds of the ghost costume which was perhaps just a little too big for him and seemed to swallow him up when he let it expand. 

“Yea, but like scarier,” Mercutio insisted. 

“Why does it need to be doom?” Romeo asked, but did not get a response as a girl ran over to their stand. She was dressed as a butterfly. 

“Trick-or-treat.”

“Do you want your fortune told?” Mercutio asked as Romeo gave her some candy. When the girl nodded, Mercutio pointed seriously at the sign and said in an unnaturally raspy voice, “A quarter, please.” He was doing his best to imitate a polite – but creepy – shopkeeper. On receiving the quarter, he grabbed her hand and thought for a few seconds. “I see…your hair will fall out and warts will grow on your nose!” he declared finally, triumphantly. 

The girl screamed and ran away, the skirts of her butterfly costume fluttering wildly. 

Mercutio cackled. 

“That’s not…very nice,” Romeo said thoughtfully. 

Mercutio rolled his eyes. “It’s Halloween and we’re creepy fortune tellers. It’s supposed to be scary.”

Romeo’s turn was next. He faced a girl a couple of years older than him, dressed as a witch with a large purple hat and black lacy ribbons in her hair, symbolizing cobwebs. She smiled at him and he smiled back, forgetting for a second that his friends were watching him expectantly. “Um…you will grow wings and fly up to the moon where you will find those really pretty, colorful stones. They will be all colors of the rainbow and sparkle in the sun.” 

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” the girl giggled. “Thanks.” 

When she had gone, Mercutio gave Romeo a shove. “What was that?”

“What?”

“Agh. Watch and learn, Romeo.” Mercutio got the next few “victims,” as he liked to call them. “You will be eaten by a huge dragon the size of Godzilla!” was his first prediction. That was followed by, “A worm will crawl up your nose and eat your brain,” and, “an evil fairy will charm you to dance a giggle as a clown for the fairy court until you die.” 

Benvolio found this all terribly amusing. Romeo appeared to be caught between awe and horror. Romeo’s turn came on a boy around his age in a Scooby Doo costume. “You will face a terrible dragon,” Romeo started, watching the boy’s eyes go wide, “and the dragon will breathe green fire on you…” The boy’s eyes began to fill with tears. “No, no wait!” Romeo’s panic proved to be more overwhelming than his desire to impress Mercutio. “You have a shield, though, so the fire doesn’t hurt you so you, um, defeat the dragon and rescue the princess.” 

“Romeooooo,” Mercutio complained. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I don’t want to be mean,” Romeo said, folding his arms. 

“Let’s let Benvolio try.” 

Benvolio’s “victim” was boy in a pirate costume. The boy’s two friends lingered a little behind, not wanting to spend money on juice and fake fortunes. Benvolio put on a thoughtful expression and tried to think of something interesting. “Um…soon…you will fall out of a tree and die.”

“Seriously?” Mercutio whispered to Romeo. “You guys are so boring.” 

The boy in the pirate costume rolled his eyes. “That’s so lame,” one his friends said loudly. “Not worth a quarter.” Benvolio flushed. 

“Hey! Who are you calling lame!” Mercutio shouted, making a move toward the group of boys. Romeo grabbed his arm to stop him. “Romeo, let me go!” 

“Everything alright here, boys?” Maddalena, who had been watching from a little distance away, decided that this would be a good time to interfere, before the children got into a fight. The group of trick-or-treaters ran off. Romeo nodded to reassure his mother that they were fine. 

“You’re not lame,” Mercutio muttered in Benvolio’s general direction. “Only I can say that.” 

“it’s getting late,” Maddalena said. “We should clean up so you boys have time to get some candy, too. But let’s take a picture first.” She lined them up behind the juice stand and the three boys – a little ghost, wizard and vampire – put their arms around each other and smiled into the camera happily. 

The following day, Maddalena would text that photograph to her friends with the comment, _my little Weird Brothers_, then have it printed at a nearby Kinkos and set it up in a little picture frame above the fireplace in the family room, where it would live for the next eleven years.


	2. Who's Afraid of Tybalt Capulet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio is not thrilled about becoming an older brother and it has him a bit down on Halloween. His friends help. Tybalt doesn't. Fictober 2019 Prompt: “Scared, me?”

“Thanks again for taking them, Maddalena,” Mercutio’s mother said, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just the baby is sick again and I don’t want to leave him for long or get the other kids sick and my husband…well you know how men are.”

“It’s really no problem, Clarissa. I’m taking my boys anyway—Hello, Mercutio.” 

“Hi, Mrs. Montague. “ 

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“Peter Pan.”

“Mercutio,” Clarissa called after her son, “You behave, please.” But Mercutio had already made it over to Romeo and Benvolio, who had been play sword fighting, and bowled both of them off their feet in his enthusiasm. Clarissa sighed. “He just ignores me, of course. It’s either that or he’s pestering me exactly at the worst time. I think I accidently gave birth to a demon instead of a child.” 

Maddalena laughed. “This is why I never wanted to raise more than one boy. But as you see, needs must. I’m sure with the baby it must be especially hard.”

“At least your boys are polite and well behaved and probably listen to you.” 

“You say that because you haven’t seen them fighting over the Xbox.” Maddalena glanced over her shoulder where Romeo and Mercutio had begun an argument about who would get which trick-or-treating bag. “Last Friday, it got so heated that Romeo hit Benvolio on the head with the controller…”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yes. And then they _both_ cried for twenty minutes straight.”

Clarissa laughed. “See, what did I tell you? Your boys are darlings. I wish Mercutio paid any attention to Valentine…”

Meanwhile, the argument between Mercutio and Romeo had escalated to the extent that Benvolio felt the need to get between them. “Stop it, you guys!” he shouted, stepping between them and waving his arms wildly, the cloak of his Jedi costume flapping and making him look like an awkward little bird. “You’re gonna ruin all the fun. They’re just bags. Who cares?”

“Mercutio started it!” Romeo said. He looked close to tears. “Why are you so mad at me?”

Mercutio deflated rapidly. For a moment he looked like he might cry, but instead, he sat down on the ground, staring blankly into the middle distance. Romeo and Benvolio glanced at each other, then sat down as well on either side of him. “I’m not mad,” Mercutio said, quietly. “Not at you.”

“At who then?”

“My mom. She promised me she would take us tonight but she’s gonna be with Val again.”

Benvolio shared a confused look with Romeo. “Who cares? As long as we get to go together?” 

Mercutio shrugged. “I guess. She just always ignores me now or gets mad. Since Val was born it’s like I’m not even there.” He picked forlornly at the grass. 

“That sucks,” Benvolio said. 

“I know it’s dumb. But at least your mom likes both of you.” 

“Auntie isn’t—” Benvolio started, but then fell silent, chewing his lip. Saying his aunt wasn’t actually his mother and _still_ treated him as well as she did Romeo wouldn’t help the situation. Mercutio looked over at him expectantly. “Sorry,” Benvolio muttered and looked down. 

Romeo scooted over so that he was nearly pressed into Mercutio’s side. “I don’t care about the bags. You can have the one you want.” 

Mercutio looked over at him and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.” For a moment, they were all silent, but the somber mood had no chance of lasting. Not when there was candy to be collected and haunted houses to be visited. “I heard,” Mercutio said, a grin slowly spreading over his face, “that the Shortwoods have a _huge_ haunted house this year…” 

*

The haunted house was indeed impressive, lavishly decorated with spiderwebs, purple strobe lights, dummy corpses, skeletons, spiders and all manner or overgrown bugs, the walls and the sidewalk leading up to it smeared with stage blood. It took up the majority of the Shortwoods uniquely large front yard and every few seconds several people, usually in groups, came running, stumbling and screaming from the back. The air hummed with excited chatter and creepy Halloween music, sometimes punctuated with screams and roars coming from inside the haunted house. Romeo, Mercutio and Benvolio spotted it from the corner and raced each other to get in line. 

“This is going to be _awesome_!” Mercutio announced. 

Benvolio eyed the fake potato bugs and spiders hanging off the trees in front of the entrance with some distaste. “I hate bugs,” he muttered. 

“I’m sure there will be lots inside!’ Mercutio said, cheerfully. Benvolio rolled his eyes. 

“Look! Look at that bat on the roof!” Romeo pointed to a large bat sat on the edge of the roof of the haunted house, flanked by two strobe lights. It was perhaps the size of an average adult man and had its wings majestically spread out. The boys _oohed_ in appreciation. 

Soon they got to the front of the line. Mercutio was so excited he had started bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Romeo was trying to guestimate how much candy was in his bag already and trying to get Benvolio to guess with him how much candy they would have by the end of the night. When they were almost at the door, they could see the two large corpse-dummies hung on either side of the entrance. One was a female with a noose around her neck and in a torn and bloodstained wedding gown. The other was, probably, supposed to be her ill-fated groom, but if was hard to tell what he was wearing under all the cobwebs and fake blood. His mouth was open in a silent scream and he was impaled through the abdomen with a greatsword. Somehow, despite the gore, slime and clear fakeness, he looked very young. 

Mercutio’s eyes caught on the doll’s young-looking face, the blood spreading from his wound over his clothes, and the greatsowrd with its ornate cross-guard, that looked red in the dim, uncertain light. Something sent a shiver down his spine and through his limbs. His hands felt cold and for a moment it was like he was alone in the world with this corpse, with that greatsword and its red cross-guard… He took an instinctive step back—

And ran straight into Romeo. 

“Oi! What--?” Romeo looked up and saw the two dummies. “Ah! That’s creepy.” 

Benvolio was grinning, more interested in Mercutio’s face. 

“Mercutio is _scared_!” he sing-songed gleefully. 

“Whaaaat?” Romeo studied Mercutio’s face and his grin suddenly matched Benvolio’s. “Finally!” 

“Scared, me?” Mercutio huffed, crossing his arms, but his voice hitched just slightly. Something about the impaled doll had unsettled him, but he would never be able to explain what it was. “Never!”

“Yes, you are! Look at your face!” Benvolio said. 

“Mercutio is scared!” Benvolio and Romeo chorused and laughed, bumping into Mercutio playfully. 

“You’re the ones who are going to be scared in a second,” Mercutio promised, and lead the way into the haunted house. 

They went through a number of passages and rooms lined with skulls, gruesome body parts, torture instruments and, to Benvolio’s distress, overly large bugs. Mummies, zombies, torture victims, and warty hags would jump out at them from time to time and grab at their ankles At one point, Benvolio reached out and took Romeo’s hand when he realized that his cousin was becoming a little overwhelmed. 

The last room they came into was empty and simply lit by two flickering black lights. Suddenly, a crazed-looking man in a bloody scientist coat and his hair sticking up in all directions shambled into the room from behind a tarp. He was holding a chainsaw. Romeo and Benvolio gave a small yelp and Mercutio stared, wide-eyed. “Are you ready for some fun?” the crazed man boomed. And turned on the chainsaw. 

“Run!” Mercutio shouted. 

They sprinted toward the exist, screaming and stumbling over each other. When they tumbled out of the haunted house, they began to laugh and shout over each other. 

“That was crazy!”

“Was that a real chainsaw?” 

“What if he accidently hits someone with it?”

“Benvolio, why do you always think about that kind of stuff?”

“But, guys, that was _crazy_!” 

They turned to head into the street and immediately jumped back. Standing in front of them, blocking their way to the street, was a Grim Reaper. It spread its cloaked arm menacingly and raised its scythe. It took a step forward, making them back up toward the haunted house—

“Hey!” Mercutio said suddenly, “Wait. You’re Tybalt!” 

Everyone stopped. The Grim Reaper took another step forward into a pool of light so that his face was more visible, and it became obvious that it was indeed Tybalt Capulet, one of their classmates. Tybalt smirked. “Look at you _little girls_,” he sneered. “I wish I had a camera to film you screaming your heads off like a bunch of scared toddlers.” 

“And I see you’re trick-or-treating alone because no one likes you and you have no friends,” Mercutio shot back. 

“Better no friends than friends like yours.” He looked over their costumes appraisingly, his eyes stopping on Romeo. “What are you supposed to be, Montague?”

Mercutio opened his mouth, but Romeo replied before he got a chance to say anything. “Prince Phillip.” 

“_Who?_”

“From Sleeping Beauty.” Romeo’s tone went from defensive to hesitant in the span of three words as he realized the implications of this confession a little too late. 

Tybalt snorted a laugh. “That’s so gay.”

“Hey!” Mercutio launched forward but Benvolio grabbed his arm. Mercutio shook him off but stayed put. “You’re worse than gay! You’re _weird_.” 

“Go away, Tybalt,” Benvolio said. 

“Of course you chose the sissy-est Star Wars character,” Tybalt said, turning on Benvolio. 

“Ok, that’s it--!”

Before Mercutio could lunge at Tybalt again, the air was pierced by a deafening shriek that made everyone stop in their tracks. 

“TYBAAAAALT!” 

A pink, sparkling blur came out of seemingly nowhere and attached itself to Tybalt’s leg. It soon became apparent that the pink blur was a little girl, no older than four years old, dressed as a pink bat with glitter sprinkled liberally over her dress and hair. 

“Juliet, I told you to no _do that_,” Tybalt hissed, but there was more embarrassment than anger in his voice. 

“Look! Lots of candy! Over there!” The girl bounced happily and showed Tybalt her plastic pumpkin full of candy. 

“Babysitting your little sister?” Mercutio leered. 

“My cousin, “ Tybalt said, and put an arm around the girl’s shoulders protectively. 

“How cuuuuute.”

“Get lost, Mercutio.” 

“Gladly. Then I won’t have to see your _face_ anymore.” 

The little girl at Tybalt’s side stuck her tongue out at Mercutio. 

“Your costume is pretty,” Romeo said to the girl. 

“Thanks,” she said, then looked up at Tybalt who was glaring at Romeo as though trying to set him on fire. “Can we go?”

“Yea, let’s go. These losers suck anyway.” Tybalt ushered Juliet away. She glanced over her shoulder and gave Romeo a little wave. 

“How does someone as mean as Tybalt have such a cute cousin?” Romeo asked. 

“Who knows, who cares,” Mercutio said. “Let’s go. We have candy to collect!” 

*

“Agh, I hate Snickers. Why are there so many of them this year?” Mercutio complained. 

The Montagues kitchen island was covered in candy as Mercutio, Romeo and Benvolio sorted out their respective hauls of candy and traded each other for their favorites. 

“I like them,” Benvolio said. “Do you want Nerds instead?” 

“Yes! Give me!”

“Does anyone want to trade for a Milkey Way?” Romeo asked. “I have too many.” 

“No such thing as too many Milkey Ways,” Mercutio said, holding up a Smarties. “Trade?”

Before Romeo could answer, the phone rang, cutting him off. Mercutio’s expression fell immediately. “That’s probably my mom calling to say she’s coming,” he said. 

“Is that bad?” Benvolio asked. 

“It’s just…boring at home.” Mercutio shrugged. “I told you. Mom’s always with Val. Even more now that he’s sick. I wish I could stay here.” 

“You’d miss your mom,” Benvolio said, a little sadly. Romeo glanced at him, guessing what was on his mind. 

“I don’t mean forever,” Mercutio said. “But like tonight.”

Maddalena had answered the phone. She looked over at the boys. “Mercutio, your mother says she’s coming in ten minutes.” 

“Mom?” Romeo said suddenly. “Can Mercutio stay here tonight? We don’t have school tomorrow…” 

“Romeo, I’m not sure if…”

“My mom won’t mind,” Mercutio said, quickly, almost stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. 

“Please, Mom?”

Maddalena sighed and said into the phone, “Clarissa, the boys want to have a sleepover. Is that alright with you? …No, you don’t have to bring anything over, we’ll set him up on the couch and he can borrow some of Ben’s or Romeo’s things.” After a pause, she looked back over at the kitchen island and was met with three sets of hopeful eyes. “Alright, you can have a sleepover.” 

The screaming that followed was deafening. 

“I’m sorry,” Maddalena said into the pheon, trying to shield it from the noise. “You should have seen their faces.”

Clarissa laughed quietly on the other end of the line. “I have a feeling this sort of thing will happen a lot. They’re happiest together.”


	3. Death Came Knocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo learns that hospitals are scarier than haunted houses. Fictober prompt: “Can you stay?”

The main emotion Romeo felt was _stunned. _Nothing made sense and the world spun sickening around him, a cacophony of sounds and lights. One moment, he and Benvolio were half-watching his mother’s speech, half messing around with Benvolio’s Gameboy, and the next there was screaming and shouting and some of his mother’s security people were ushering him and Benvolio into a side room. Romeo tried to break away and see where his mother was – she had been there one second and then suddenly he couldn’t see her behind all the people crowding around the stage – but the security people wouldn’t let him. He thought he saw a glimpse of her lying on ground, Jeff, their head of security, kneeling over her. 

“What’s going on? What happened? Is my mom ok?” Romeo asked and asked but no one was really paying attention to him, other than to make sure he and Benvolio stayed put and out of sight of everyone other than the two security agents assigned to them. 

“I think someone shot a gun,” Benvolio said. 

“That loud bang?” Romeo blinked at his cousin and felt the first wave of fear wash over him. No one would tell them anything for what felt like forever. Romeo and Benvolio sat huddled together, too stunned to talk, the Gameboy completely forgotten. Finally, Jeff peaked in to check on them. Romeo jumped and ran over to him, attaching himself to Jeff’s arm and refusing to let go. “I want to see my mom! _Please._” 

Benvolio came to stand next to him. 

Seeing that Romeo was about to cry, Jeff knelt down to be at his eye level and put his hands on Romeo’s shoulders. “Romeo, someone tried to hurt your mom. I’m sure she will be alright, but they had to take her to the hospital.” Benvolio made a small, strangled sound, but Romeo only stared blankly. 

“I want to see my mom,” Romeo said again. 

“You can’t right now—”

“Can you take us to the hospital?”

“We will have someone take you home.”

“No!” Romeo wrenched away from Jeff and tried to make a run for the door, but Jeff caught him by the arm and held him back. 

“Stop, Romeo, it’s not safe.”

Romeo felt the tears begin to slide down his face but didn’t care. All he wanted was to see his mother, to make sure she was alright. Jeff was too pale, too worried. 

“Mr. Rodrigues, please?” Benvolio piped up, hoping, as always, that politeness would get him what he wanted from adults. “We can’t just go home…” 

“Jeff,” one of the other agents said. “The boys should go to the hospital. Just…in case.” The two men exchanged a meaningful look and Jeff sighed. “Alright. Let’s have Luke or someone take them. I need to finish here.” 

Romeo wasn’t aware of the details of who exactly took them to the hospital or how they got there. All he could think was that he needed to see his mother. The two-second look he had gotten of her on the ground replayed in a loop in his mind. He began thinking that he had seen blood on her blouse though part of him thought he might be imagining things. “Do you think she will be ok?” Romeo asked Benvolio as a nurse ushered them into a quieter, smaller waiting area, probably at the request of the security agent who was with them. By then, they knew most of the major details: his mother had been shot by someone in the crowd. She was alive but unconscious when the ambulance came. She was in surgery, but no one could tell them for how long and no one wanted to promise them that she would be alright. 

When Romeo realized that Benvolio hadn’t answered his question, he looked over at his cousin. “Ben?” It wasn’t like Benvolio to just not respond to him. In fact, Benvolio had not spoken a word since they got in the car to go to the hospital and now he was refusing to meet Romeo’s eyes. “_Ben_?”

“I don’t know!” Benvolio snapped. 

Romeo, taken aback, felt like he was going to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” Benvolio said, looking up to meet Romeo’s eyes, but clearly not wanting to. “But I don’t know anymore than you.” 

At this point, Romeo realized that Benvolio was shaking and when Romeo reached out to touch his arm, his face crumpled and he began to cry, uncharacteristically uncheck for Benvolio. Romeo did the only thing he could think of and pulled him into a hug; Benvolio clung to him desperately. “I’m scare too,” Romeo said into his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to go away,” Benvolio said, strangled as he tried to keep his feelings at least a little in check. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s your mom, not mine, but-but…” 

Romeo hugged him tighter. 

“And if Auntie—If anything happens—I don’t want to go into the _foster system_,” Benvolio admitted, pronouncing _foster system _the way someone might say _prison _or _death camp _although he had an only vague impression of what it entailed. All he knew was that he would be separated from Romeo and he wouldn’t have a family again. “I know that’s selfish,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Romeo said, trying to sound convincing but it didn’t work very well when he was sniffling. “We’re brothers, we’re always going to be together. And anyway, Mom will be fine.” He thought for a moment and added, in a whisper, “She has to be.”

Benvolio shuddered. If Romeo had reminded him, unwittingly, of the same thing he had said over and over again while waiting in a different emergency room two and a half years ago, but alone and with only a distant relative who didn’t seem to particularly care about him and was only there out of a sense of duty for company, he didn’t mention it to Romeo. Nor did he mention that his parents had not been alright, no matter how hard he had wished and believed it. “Do you mean that?” he asked instead. “That we’re brothers?”

“Yea.” It was the only thing Romeo was certain of at that moment. 

It was strange how quickly things could change. Just a few hours ago Romeo and Benvolio had been anticipating getting out of the boring campaign event they had been dragged to and meeting up with Mercutio to go trick-or-treating. Romeo could not say how much time exactly went by as they waited – perhaps three hours perhaps longer. Sunset had turned into dusk and into dark. They were still not being told anything and Romeo felt dizzy and nauseous with fear. The white walls, fluorescent lights, sickening smell of disinfectant that permeated the hospital, constant sirens from the ambulance bay – everything blurred in Romeo’s consciousness and stuck out in vivid detail at the same time, like an especially vivid nightmare. 

He could not remember ever feeling so scared in his entire life. No scary movie, no haunted house, no anticipation of being punished for misbehaving had ever come even remotely close to this. He didn’t think he would ever be able to walk into a hospital again without feeling sick. 

Benvolio seemed to be handling things even worse, thought he was usually better than Romeo at hiding his feelings. Romeo held his hand and stared forlornly, blankly at the TV on the other side of the waiting room. 

“Romeo! Benvolio!” 

“Mercutio?” Romeo was not exactly surprised that Mercutio had found out what had happened, even though everyone had completely forgotten to tell him that they weren’t going to go trick-or-treating after all. Apparently, the shooting was all over the news. Benvolio, to distract himself, had found some hasty articles about it and pictures from the scene. The campaign event was mostly a private affair for large donors, so they were not successful in finding a video, though Benvolio had speculated that was perhaps for the best: _“Do you really want to see your mom get shot?”_

__Mercutio ran over to Romeo and Benvolio, who had jumped up to meet him, and for a few moments the three of them just stood there in a group hug before sitting down again, Benvolio and Romeo on the plastic chairs, Mercutio on the magazine-strewn coffee table opposite them. Mercutio was wearing his Halloween pirate costume and had his trick-or-treating bag with him, but it looked almost empty. “Are you guys ok?” he asked, a little cautiously. “Has anyone said anything to you? I only know what was on the news. It’s how we heard.” 

Romeo shook his head. “They haven’t told us anything for hours. But what are you doing here?”

“We came to see you.” Mercutio looked confused at the question. He glanced over at his mother, who was talking to the security agent who had taken Romeo and Mercutio to the hospital. 

“I tried to go trick-or-treating,” Mercutio admitted, “but it was no fun without you guys, and I was worried. I only really stayed out for a couple of streets so we could share.” He held out the trick-or-treating bag, indicating that they should split the candy between the three of them. 

At that moment, Clarissa came over and sat down beside Romeo. “Hi, boys. I’m so sorry this happened to your mom. But I’m sure she’ll be alright. I brought you some food, you should eat—Mercutio, put the candy away.” Clarissa held out a couple of bags from the local In-N-Out, as well as two milkshakes. 

“Thank you,” Benvolio said, taking the food but putting it aside, gingerly. 

“Thank you, I’m not hungry, though,” Romeo said. 

Clarissa sighed. “I know, sweetheart, but you should still eat something.” 

Romeo started with the milkshake as it seemed like the easiest thing to keep down at the moment. 

“Does anyone else from your family know what happened? Is there anyone coming to stay with you boys? I know Mr. Andrews needs to get off shift…”

“I think Aunt Bella is coming,” Benvolio said. “I think they called a couple of people, but we don’t know really. Tom brought us here, but babysitting isn’t really his job.” 

“Alright, well don’t you worry about that. You won’t be alone. And I’ve talked to Mr. Andrews—Tom—and he said you’re not in any danger.” 

“Do you know if they caught who did this?” Romeo said. 

“Yea,” Mercutio piped up. “They think he works for the Capulets.”

“Mercutio,” Clarissa snapped. 

Mercutio looked down. “It was on the news,” he said, in way of self-justification. 

“They don’ t really know much yet,” Clarissa said. For a moment, they were silent. “I’m going to go talk the nurses, see if I can find anything out for us about how your mom’s doing and see who they’ve called. Is there anyone you boys want to see or talk to right now? Anyone I can call?”

Romeo and Benvolio exchanged a glance and shrugged. It wasn’t that they disliked their family, but they weren’t so close with the few family members that lived in the area to particularly want to see any of them at the moment. Having Mercutio there felt far more important. Romeo was also worried that any relatives who came would make them go home, and he wasn’t about to go anywhere until he knew his mother was alright.

When Clarissa left to speak with the nurses, Mercutio leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Mom didn’t want to bring me, but I made her.” 

Romeo couldn’t help but smile, imagining what that scene must have looked like. “Can you stay?” he asked , hopefully. “Or is your mom going to make you leave?”

“I’m definitely not leaving,” Mercutio said. “I don’t care what my mom says. I’m staying with you guys.”

Romeo looked between Mercutio and Benvolio, who had finally decided to try and eat some of the French fries. “Let’s promise each other that we will always be together. No matter what. That nothing will ever come between us. Not fights over stupid stuff, not crazy guys with guns – nothing.” He held out both hands, one to Benvolio the other to Mercutio. 

Benvolio took his hand, eagerly. Mercutio, for a moment, looked like he waned to make one of his usual comments about Romeo being overdramatic and sentimental, but it was only a moment. He grabbed Romeo’s hand, and reached for Benvolio with the other. “Nothing,” Mercutio said, unusually serious. “Not even death.”


	4. A Grave Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys sneak into a graveyard at night and have a somewhat spookier experience than they, perhaps, intended to. Fictober prompt: “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”

“Oh, come on, you guys. It will be really cool! We will be like real ghost hunters!” Mercutio twirled around once, unable to stay still in his excitement. 

Romeo looked unconvinced. “What if we get caught?”

Mercutio threw Benvolio a dirty look. “I blame you.”

Benvolio flapped his arms in protest. “For _what_?” 

“Since when does Romeo worry about getting caught?” 

Benvolio rolled his eyes. 

“We’re not going to get caught,” Mercutio insisted. “All the grown ups are too busy drinking. No one is paying attention.” They looked around the large backyard where several other children of various ages were playing. More were inside, watching tv or playing video games upstairs; others were likely in the front yard and cul de sac. Laughter and Screamin Jay Hawkins’s “I Put A Spell On You” wafted through the half-open screen door leading into the kitchen. 

Romeo’s brows furrowed. “What if we get eaten by the ghosts?”

Benvolio sputtered a laugh. “Ok, I’m pretty sure _that _isn’t going to happen.” 

“It’s not like Santa of the Tooth Fairy,” Romeo insisted. “Even adults believe in ghosts…” 

“Mercutio still believes in the Tooth Fairy,” Benvolio crooned. 

Mercutio flushed. “I _don’t. _Shut up.” Everyone knew it had taken Mercutio an especially long time to let go of the idea that fairies weren’t real. “So, are you cowards coming or not?”

“We need flashlights at least,” Benvolio said. 

Mercutio waved his toy wand. “Our wands kinda light up. It should be enough,” A new Harry Potter movie had recently come out, so Romeo, Mercutio and Benvolio had decided to go as Hogwarts students that year, with Romeo as a Gryffindor, Mercutio as a Slytherin and Benvolio as a Ravenclaw. Along with their costumes they had gotten wands which could light up with different colors when clicked on. The lights weren’t very bright, but enough to allow some ability to move around in the dark. “Besides,” Mercutio added, looking up. “The moon is out.” 

Romeo bit his lip, looking between Mercutio and Benvolio. He didn’t want to say _no _to Mercutio or for Mercutio to think he was too scared, and if even Benvolio wasn’t protesting this idea, then maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. “Ok, but let’s go now before it gets too late and people start leaving. I’m afraid my mom might come to check on us.”

“I saw my mom talking her into taking shots,” Mercutio said. “Shots make you really drunk. I saw it on tv. She won’t notice.”

Mercutio could be extremely convincing when he wanted to be. “Ok, ok,” Romeo said. “Let’s go.” 

*

“What kind of people even live within walking distance of a graveyard?” Benvolio mused as they made their way through the patch of land overgrown with shrubbery and tall grass that separated the Nelsons’ house, whose party they had been at, and the local graveyard. Getting out unnoticed had been simple. All they had to do was climb over the low brick wall of the backyard while the other children were busy playing tag – no one had paid them any attention. 

“I think the Nelsons have had this house for generations,” Romeo said. “Maybe the graveyard hadn’t been so big back then.” He looked around, a little nervously. “Are you sure you know where we’re going, Mercutio?”

“Yes, it’s just up ahead. It’s impossible to get lost here.” 

“What are we even expecting to see?” Benvolio sounded skeptical. “And why is it so important to go tonight?”

Mercutio made a frustrated sound. “When else are we going to be so close to a graveyard at night? Besides, Halloween is special. I read about it. On Halloween, the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is especially thin, so there’s like a five times greater chance of seeing a ghost or a ghoul on Halloween then on any other night.” 

“That’s a very exact number.” 

“Benvolio, you’re ruing the fun. It’s true. It’s an old religion, but I forgot what it’s called. Starts with an ‘S’ and is practiced by witches.” Mercutio ran ahead of them and waved his arms, gesturing to emphasize his words. “On this night, anything is possible. You don’t believe me, but people report hauntings all the time – in houses, old schools, anywhere really where someone may have died. And on Halloween it’s worse. And, obviously, in a graveyard. The spirits of the dead can pass through cracks, move aside the curtain, and visit the living.” 

Romeo was listening with his mouth open. Benvolio looked far less impressed. “How does this veil even work, really? Why is it a veil? If they just push it aside like a curtain, why does it matter when it’s thin?” 

Mercutio stopped and gave Benvolio his most frustrated glare. “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”

“Guys, we’re here,” Romeo said suddenly. 

The cemetery was fenced off, but the gaps between the bars were large and the fence was old and most parts of it that weren’t facing large roads had not been repaired in decades. Consequently, some of the fencing had rotted, rusted, or broken away, making it easy to find a large enough hole to squeeze through. Using their toy wands and the moonlight for guidance, they made their way toward the neat rows of gravestones. 

“I think this is the cemetery where my dad is buried,” Romeo said, thoughtfully. It was eerily quiet; only the slight breeze that blew through nearby trees and picked up scattered autumn leaves made soft rustling and crinkling sounds. 

“Maybe you’ll see his ghost,” Mercutio said. 

Romeo looked over at him sharply. 

“I saw a commercial on tv for this play called _Hamlet,_ where a guy sees his dad’s ghost at night in a graveyard, so…” 

Benvolio, amused by the fact that Romeo seemed to believe everything Mercutio ever said, and wanting to tease his cousin, decided to play along. “It’s based on a true story, too.” 

Romeo switched his attention to Benvolio. “You don’t even believe in ghosts.”

Benvolio shrugged. “Who knows, I guess, right?” He met Mercutio’s eyes over Romeo’s shoulder and Mercutio grinned widely at him, just barely visible in the dark. 

Romeo thought about this. “I don’t remember my dad. I wouldn’t recognize him.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you,” Mercutio said. “He’ll say: Romeo! My son! I am your faaaaatheeeer. Oooooo.” 

“Are you saying his dad’s Darth Vader?” Benvolio snickered, unable to keep up the serious façade for too long. 

There was a sudden, strong gust of wind that flapped their robes and blew some of Romeo’s hair into his face. He took a step sideways and tripped over something large. He would have fallen if Benvolio hadn’t caught his arm. Romeo shivered. He was starting to regret this idea. “What was that?”

Benvolio held the glowing end to his wand in the direction where Romeo had stepped. Mercutio joined him. By the faint light of the three wands, they could make out three small tombstones, overgrown by weeds, the lettering eroded away with time and smudged with dirt. 

“Richard Mores, Marcus Ericson,” Benvolio read out the first two. The name on the other tombstone was too badly eroded and smudged with grime to be legible in such dim lighting. The dates, however, were all visible. “They all died on the same day, almost a hundred years ago.” 

“They were really young,” Romeo said. “Teenagers…”

“They have our initials,” Mercutio said. 

“Isn’t your last name Aine?” 

“It’s actually Escalus-Aine. Mom wanted me to have her name too. But it’s too long to write on homework.” 

“I don’t like this,” Romeo said. The wind was rising, now coming in gusts instead of puffs. “Maybe we should go.” 

“We can’t go,” Mercutio said hurriedly. “We have to summon your dad’s ghost first.”

“Maybe let’s not,” Romeo said. 

“Call him, Mercutio!” Benvolio said, the unnerving moment of seeing the tombstones swept away by the anticipation of having another chance to tease Romeo. 

“I will conjure!” Mercutio declared. He clicked the light switch on his wand, switching the colors until he got to red, and put it under his chin, lighting the bottom half of his face a dusky crimson. “Wait, what was your dad’s name?”

“Matteo…” 

“Matteo Montague! Arise to us in the name of your son, Romeo! Appear like a sigh, like the wind! Come to us from the otherworld!”

A sudden, strong gust of wind kicked up a pile of dry leaves and they scattered across the ground, rustling and whispering, as the wind whistled through the nearby trees. Patches of clouds began to cover the moon and the darkness around them began to thicken. 

“Mercutio, stop.” Romeo looked frantically over at Benvolio, but Benvolio only raised his arms and wiggled his fingers at him. 

Mercutio, unperturbed, continued. “I summon you by Romeo’s smile and by Romeo’s bright eyes! Rise and speak your truth!”

A loud creak sliced through the heavy silence of the cemetery, instantly followed by a crash. All three boys jumped, and Mercutio lowered his wand from his face. Romeo backed up into Mercutio, who instinctively put an arm around him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it hurt you,” he said quietly against Romeo’s ear as they strained to see through the darkness. 

“I don’t think his dad’s ghost would hurt him,” Benvolio said, but his voice was unsteady and uncertain as he also took a step back, so that the three of them were huddled together. 

“What if it’s not my dad?”

The cloud patches covering the moon shifted a little, allowing for more light, and suddenly they could make out, in the distance, a dark shape moving toward them. The form might have been that of a man, but its outlines were indistinct, like someone wearing a cloak or a coat with a hood. The form moved with a limp but with surprising speed, not seeming to need a flashlight to move effortlessly through the tombstones. 

“it’s coming toward us,” Benvolio said. 

A voice, low and rasping, carried toward them from the figure’s general direction, but they could not make out any words over the whistling of the wind. 

“We need to go,” Mercutio said, grabbing Romeo’s hand, without seeming to realize it. “Run, run!” 

They ran, without looking back, toward the edge of the cemetery, scrambling to find a wide enough gap in the fencing, and dashed across the shrubbery-covered empty lots, back toward the Nelsons’ house. They climbed over the brick wall of the backyard, tumbling to the ground in their haste. For several minutes they sat on the grass and tried to catch their breath. 

Finally, Mercutio said, “That was…creepy.”

“Yea,” Benvolio admitted. “I mean, maybe it was just the undertaker or something…?”

Romeo, still looking stunned, whispered, “I don’t think that was my dad.” 

Mercutio realized that Romeo was still holding his hand, or perhaps it was him who was still holding Romeo’s. Romeo seemed to realize too. They exchanged a look and Romeo smiled sheepishly before letting go. 

“Romeo, Benvolio?” The boys looked up to see Maddalena coming out into the backyard from the kitchen. “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you. Mercutio, your mother is looking for you too.” She studied them closely. “Are you boys alright? You look like you’ve seen an actual ghost.” She smiled, meaning it as a joke. 

Benvolio was the first to giggle, followed by Mercutio. Romeo looked between his friends and began to laugh too. Maddalena looked between them and shook her head. Who could ever understand how the minds and imaginations of children worked? 

When they were saying goodbye in the driveway, Mercutio turned to his mother and said, “Ma, we see a real ghost tonight.”

“Sure, honey. Get in the car,” Clarissa said, distractedly. 

Mercutio turned to Romeo and Benvolio and winked. They grinned back at him and go into the backseat of their car.

On the drive home, dozing off on Benvolio’s shoulder, Romeo drowsily replayed the events of the evening. As frightened as he had been, what he remembered most was how much safer it had felt when Mercutio grabbed his hand, and how he _almost _didn’t feel scared after that.


	5. Team Montague Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Halloween without some vandalism of Capulet property and Mercutio discovering drag? Fictober prompt: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

“Thank you so much for taking them, Alessandro. I tried my best to get out of this event, but with the election just days away…”

“Of course, Aunt. It’s no problem at all.” Alessandro was Romeo’s cousin on his mother’s side. He was four years older than Romeo and Benvolio and ostensibly volunteered to take them trick-or-treating while Maddalena was engaged in a campaign event. Both Romeo and Benvolio had suspicions about his intentions, and those became clear when they found out that they would also be meeting with Nick, the Montague campaign manager’s son. _“This is probably Nick’s dad’s idea to suck up to Mom,”_ Romeo had told Benvolio and Mercutio in a moment of pragmatism which was unusual for him. 

Maddalena said goodbye to the three boys and they waved as she pulled out of the driveway. A few moments later, Nick pulled up, with his girlfriend in the passenger front seat. Nick was almost seventeen and already had his driver’s license. “Come on, losers, get in,” he called out of the open window with a smug smirk. “We’re going ‘shopping.’”

Alessandro began walked toward the car, but Romeo grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait, we can’t go yet.”

“Why not?”

“We have to wait for Mercutio.”

“Who?” 

“Mercutio. He’s our friend. We always go trick-or-treating together.”

Alessandro gave him a frustrated look. “You didn’t say someone else was coming. We won’t all fit in the car.” 

“It’s not like you asked us if anyone else was coming,” Benvolio said, glumly. 

“Why are we even going to another neighborhood?” Romeo asked. 

“Because there are more people we need to meet up with. Just tell your friend he can’t come.”

“We’re not going to do that.” Romeo folded his arms defiantly over his chest. He was an entire head shorter than Alessandro and had to tilt his head back to look at him, so he looked silly more than anything, but it was the best Romeo could do. “Besides, he’s already on his way.”

“Agh. Come on, let’s tell Nick.” Alessandro walked over to the car with Benvolio and Romeo trailing behind him. “Dude, they invited their friend and he’s already coming here. I told you it would only be a hassle to bring them.”

“Nah, we need them as cover and to blend in better.” Nick eyed Romeo and Benvolio as though they were a couple of useful tools at the hardware store. “Anyway, who cares if there’s another kid—”

At that moment, Clarissa’s car pulled up and Mercutio came bounding out of the backseat, ignoring his mother’s parting remarks as he always did. 

Nick swore loudly. “Ok, _he_ definitelycan’t come.”

“Why not?” Romeo looked in puzzlement between Nick and Alessandro as Mercutio ran up to them. Mercutio caught on immediately that something was wrong and stopped at Benvolio’s side with just barely a vague hello to the whole group. He nudged Benvolio and gave him a questioning look, but Benvolio only shrugged. 

“Because he’s the mayor’s nephew.”

“So?”

Alessandro ran a hand over his face. “We’re not going trick-or-treating, doofus. We were going to go mess with the Caps. Screw around with their campaign signs, put lewd things in the candy bowls outside their houses to infuriate the parents of the kids who go there. You know, that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Romeo and Benvolio said in unison. 

“Cool!” Mercutio shouted at the exact same time. 

“What do you mean why?” Nick looked at Romeo, baffled. “Because your mom is running against them. It’s the last push before the election. We’re all pulling our weight around here. Don’t you wanna help your mom win? Help her party win?”

Romeo thought about this for a moment. “Yea, I guess, ok. But Mercutio can come.”

“Yea…that’s gonna be a problem. He can’t come. We shouldn’t even be talking about this in front of him.”

“He’s our friend.” 

“He’s the fucking mayor’s nephew.” 

“Nick, stop cussing in front of the ten-yea-olds,” Nick’s girlfriend muttered, not looking up from her phone. Nick didn’t seem to hear her. 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Romeo said. “Your point?”

“He’s not a Montague or on the Montague team. His uncle is the bloody mayor and is, technically a rival. And, anyway, can you imagine if he goes and blabs about what we do, and the cops get involved? Like it will be a disaster.”

Mercutio looked up at Nick with an expression full of disdain and, at the same time, childish hurt. “Why do you think I’d tell anyone? Romeo and Benvolio are my friends. I’m totally team Montague. I’m sure as hell not Team Capulet. Not when Tybalt is a Capulet.” Mercutio made a face like he was throwing up. “I wannna go mess with the Caps too.” 

“Whatever we’re doing,” Romeo picked up, “Mercutio is coming with us. And if you abandon us, we’ll tell Mom everything.” 

“Yea,” Benvolio agreed, for lack of any better threat to leverage. 

“Fine,” Nick said after a moment’s pause. “Get in the car and keep your heads down. Come on, Al. Time to make men our of these boys.” 

*

They stopped by Nick’s house where a large Halloween party was underway. The rest of the people who would be going with them were already there. The group included Alessandro’s sister, Maria, who was one year younger than him and the closest in age to Romeo and his friends; another one of Romeo’s cousins, Lucia, who would be the second driver; Balthasar, the son of the Montague campaign’s general counsel; and Balthasar’s boyfriend, Seth. 

Seth, as it was, was taking the longest to join them, and it took Balthasar shouting “Babe, we gotta go!” at the top of his lungs, for the boy to appear. He detached himself from a group standing around in the front yard and glided over to them on a pair of flashy platform heals. His entire costume was a strikingly gaudy and bejeweled iteration of an 80s disco queen. 

Mercutio stared with his mouth open. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Seth,” Alessandro muttered. “Couldn’t you have worn something less…conspicuous?”

“I am not Seth tonight,” Seth declared with a flippant gesture and flip of his wig-hair. “Tonight, I am Vanessaaaaa. And I answer only to Vanessaaaaa.”

“Ok, _Vanesaaaaa_, but we gotta go,” Nick said. “Are you even gonna be able to run in those heals?” 

“Unlike you, honeypot, I’m a pro at heals.”

“Don’t call me that.” Nick rolled his eyes and gave Balthasar a look that said clearly, _Control your boyfriend, please. _“Alright, everyone, let’s go. Drama Queen, Bal, and Maria are coming in my car. Al, and the littles go with Lucia.” 

“We’re not little!” Benvolio protested. 

“Are you _sure _we’re not gong to get caught?” Romeo asked as he climbed into the back of the car, though he sounded only half-heartedly worried. “Mom will notice if we don’t bring home any candy.”

“We have candy to give you at the end of the night,” Alessandro promised, distractedly. 

Mercutio hung back, and after a moment’s hesitation, biting his lip, walked up to Seth and said, very seriously. “I like your costume.” 

Seth smiled down at him. “Thanks, kid. You look good too.” 

Mercutio watched as Seth climbed into the back of Nick’s car, Balthasar’s hand on the small of his back. He was still biting his lip, lost in thought, when Romeo’s voice brought him back to reality. “_Mercutio, _hey! Come on.” With one last look at the two older boys, Mercutio turned and ran to the other car. 

*

The older kids had several plans. One involved going to Capulet and Capulet-supporting houses that had bowls of candy sitting outside on the doorstep or the porch and instead of taking candy, put candy into the bows. The candy they “planted” had all kinds of rude and inappropriate message taped to them in Capulet-red font, sometimes with the Capulet logo photoshopped into the corners of the papers. Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo were especially useful on this part of mission as they looked most innocently like regular trick-or-treaters. Mercutio, especially, enjoyed reading out the messages. 

“You are a syph…syphilitic moron,” he read, with an expression of profound joy. 

“What is syphilitic?” Benvolio asked. 

“I don’t know, but it sounds gross.” 

Romeo twirled a piece of candy around, curiously. “Don’t starve for attention. Eat candy and get diabetes instead. It’s faster.” 

Mercutio grinned. “I hope Tybalt gets this one: My mousy doesn’t like your pussy.” 

Another plan involved stealthily vandalizing Capulet campaign lawn signs with eggs, spray paint and scissors. As this activity required more discretion, the younger children were separated and partnered with older ones. Mercutio seemed to do everything in his power to end up paired up with Seth and Balthazar. His eyes lit up every time Seth said something nice to him and they ended up as the most effective team in the entire group. 

“Seth taught me how to draw a dick with a stray paint can,” Mercutio informed Romeo and Benvolio when they were back together, giggling childishly at the word _dick. _

“You really like Seth, huh?” Romeo said as they piled into the back Lucia’s car to head to their final destination for the night. “He’s nice.” 

“I like his costume,” Mercutio said, flushing. “Can I confess something to you guys?” he whispered, glancing toward the front where Lucia and Alessandro sat. They, however, were engaged in a loud conversation and the radio was turned up. 

“What is it?” Romeo whispered, and the three of them put their heads together to hear Mercutio’s confession. 

“I went into my mom’s closet the other day and she has these, um, really cool shoes. Like most of her shoes are just whatever, but these are really nice. They have these big platforms and silver sparkles…. I put them on and kinda…walked around her bathroom a bit…I know it’s weird to want to dress up in girl stuff but…” 

“Do you always want to dress like a girl?” Benvolio asked, his eyebrows furrowing at this new information. 

“No,” Mercutio said, without hesitation. “Usually not. But sometimes…it seems like some of the clothes would be fun? Girls get to wear more colors and stuff that looks cool. Is that weird?” He looked between his friends nervously, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I mean, it can’t hurt anyone, right?” Benvolio said. 

“I think Seth does it sometimes. Looks like he’s having fun tonight,” Romeo said. 

Before they could continue the conversation, the car stopped and Lucia ushered them out. 

The Final Act was to hang a large banner that read “FUCK CAPULETS” across the front yard of _the _Capulet’s house. They spent some time hiding in the bushes and observing the front law and veranda, which were tastefully decorated in seasonal attributes and colors but without explicitly Halloween-related decorations. The windows of the house were alight and faint notes of music carried outside. The Capulets were having some kind of party. After picking out the right moment when the street and the front yard were completely deserted, they dashed out from their hiding spot and unfolded the banner, scrambled to tie and tape it to the fence and nearby trees. 

Romeo, Mercutio and Benvolio held edges of the banner, rolls of tape and scissors in succession as needed, but mostly died of silent giggles, giddy from the danger and the excitement of being included in something illicit with older kids. 

Just as they were finishing up, the front door opened and Tybalt’s high-pitched screech carried across the front lawn. “Hey! _Hey!_ Montagues! MONTAGUE SCUM!” 

“Run!” Nick shouted. They dropped everything and sprinted for the next street, hollering and laughing as they went. 

Mercutio looked back when they reached the first street corner and stuck his tongue out in the general direction of the Capulet house and Tybalt, though it was unlikely that Tybalt, or anyone, could make out his face in the dark. 

*

On the drive back to Romeo’s, sandwiched between his two best friends in the back seat, with his mouth full of Twix, and his mind replaying every detail of the night – from Seth’s cool costume to his friends’ acceptance of his strange fascinations, to Tybalt’s infuriated screaming – Mercutio mumbled drowsily, in a half-whisper, more to himself than anyone else in the car, “Team Montague forever.”


	6. Attack of the Cooties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo is afflicted with his first ever crush. Mercutio is not impressed. Fictober prompt: “Secrets? I love secrets.”

“Romeo, what are you doing?”

“It’s a secret.” 

“Secrets? I love secrets.” Mercutio’s grin was predatory as he watched Romeo from across the Montagues’ living room.

“You like blabbing secrets, you mean,” Benvolio grumbled, not taking his eyes off his math homework.

“Hey! I’m very good at keeping secrets, I’ll have you know.”

“A-huh.”

Mercutio pouted. Romeo was still lost in what he was doing – that was, scribbling something on a garish orange greeting card in the shape of a pumpkin. He was biting his lip and his entire attention was on what he was writing. Distractedly, he said, “I don’t want to tell you this secret, Mercutio.”

“Why not?”

Romeo shrugged.

Mercutio made a small, frustrated sound, then bounded across the room and snatched the card away from Romeo, who gave a startled squeal of dismay. “Hey! Give it back.”

Mercutio cackled and climbed onto one of the armchairs to be out of Romeo’s reach. Romeo tugged desperately at his jumper.

“Give it back, Mercutio!”

Mercutio, cackling at his success, held the card above his head and read out, in a high-pitched, mocking voice, “Pumpkins are orange, spiders are green. I really like you, you’re in my every dream.”

Benvolio sputtered a laugh, still pretending to be doing the tedious math worksheet they’d been assigned.

Mercutio let the card fall limply from his hand. Romeo scrambled to catch it. “Asshole,” he muttered, blushing bright red.

“First of all, Romeo,” Mercutio said seriously. “Spiders aren’t green.”

“Halloween spiders are,” Romeo protested, hugging the card to his chest like he was trying to protect it from Mercutio’s judgement.

Mercutio ignored him and plopped down into the armchair he was just standing on. “Second of all, what the hell?”

Benvolio shut his math textbook, finally admitting to himself that he was not going to get anything done.

“It’s for Greta Finchley. She’s in History with us.” Romeo ducked his head.

“I don’t think telling her she’s in your every dream is going to make her like you,” Benvolio piped up. “More like make her run the other way screaming STALKER.”

“I’m dreaming about her not following her home—”

“Also, maybe wait until Valentine’s day. Seems like a more appropriate holiday.”

“Since when are you the experts on this?” Romeo snapped, turning around to give Benvolio an exasperated look.

“_Hey_!” Mercutio jumped to his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re both forgetting the most important part here.”

Benvolio raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Which is?”

“Who the hell is Greta and why is Romeo _dreaming _about her?”

Romeo’s embarrassment seemed to fade slightly and he smiled like he’d just been given a good dose of happy gas at the dentist. “She’s _really_ pretty. And I wanted to invite her to go trick-or-treating with us tomorrow and I thought if I gave her the card she’d be more likely to say yes?”

“YOU’RE INVITING HER TRICK-OR-TREATING WITH US?” Mercutio fell dramatically to the floor. “Benvolio, I have been slain.”

Benvolio rolled his eyes. “By what?”

“Cooties.”

“Cooties?”

“Potential cooties.”

“Come on, Mercutio,” Romeo said, a little hesitantly. “We all know cooties don’t exist.”

“That’s what _you _think. Because you’re dreaming about _Gretchen._”

“Greta.”

“Whatever.”

“More serious question,” Benvolio said, turning to Romeo. “Why would you invite her to go trick-or-treating with us? That’s something we always do together, just the three of us. Having some girl there will just make it awkward.” 

A little taken aback by that question, Romeo sat down on the floor, leaning back against the couch. He was still clutching the card to his chest. “I mean…do you guys really mind so much? She’s really nice.” 

“How many times have you even talked to her?” Benvolio asked. 

“I don’t know. Three, maybe? Are we including the time when I asked to borrow her pencil?”

Mercutio sputtered a laugh, still lying on his back and staring up at the celling but didn’t comment otherwise. 

“Were you even planning on asking us if she could come?”

Romeo looked between Benvolio and Mercutio, then down at the card in his arms. “I guess I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he mumbled. “it’s not always going to be just the three of us.”

At this, Mercutio sat up. “Why the hell not? What is that even supposed to mean?”

Romeo looked over at him and shrugged, guilt battling defiance on his face. “Just, you know…we might make other friends and go on dates and stuff—”

Mercutio made a face, which Romeo ignored. 

“I don’t mean that we’re not always going to be together, just that…why is it wrong to invite other people to join?”

“it’s not that you want to invite her it’s that you didn’t ask us,” Benvolio said. 

Romeo deflated. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you guys first… So, can she come?”

“Sure,” Benvolio said. 

“No,” Mercutio said at the same time. Romeo and Benvolio looked at him, genuinely surprised. 

“We do this every year. We go trick-or-treating together. Just the three of us. Can’t you hang out with her some other time?”

“We went with a whole bunch of other people last year,” Romeo pointed out. 

“That was different. We weren’t even trick-or-treating.”

“it wasn’t different!” Romeo jumped up and glared at Mercutio. “You just didn’t care because _you _were having fun and-and-and you got a crush on Seth.”

Mercutio turned bright red and stood up as well. “I did _not. _I didn’t even know him before we went! Why do you even want a girlfriend, Romeo? Girls are dumb.”

“No, they’re not. You’re just being mean because you’re jealous.” 

“Fine, whatever. I’m going home.” Mercutio grabbed his backpack and turned to leave. 

“Mercutio, wait! You guys, this is stupid, you’re fighting over nothing.” Benvolio looked frantically between his friends, but it was too late. Once Mercutio had made up his mind, there was no stopping him. Once he had gone, Benvolio tuned to Romeo, who managed to look guilty and upset simultaneously. “I don’t think calling him gay was the right thing to do there,” Benvolio pointed out. 

“That’s not—I wasn’t—I didn’t even mean it that way,” Romeo sputtered. “What’s his problem, anyway?”

“I think he just wants this to be _our_ thing, you know?”

“That’s dumb,” Romeo mumbled and stalked off upstairs to his room. 

Benvolio, a little bemused by both of his friends – not that that was anything new – sat back down at the kitchen table and attempted to concentrate on his math homework. 

*

They didn’t talk about Romeo and Mercutio’s fight the next day at school, although Romeo and Mercutio didn’t talk much to each other at all. Romeo sulked visibly and Mercutio was uncharacteristically quiet. Benvolio worried that their entire evening would be ruined but didn’t really know what to do to fix things. When Mercutio and Romeo argued, their emotions were like a tornado, ripping through everything in its way. 

Nonetheless, Mercutio was at their door at the agreed-upon time that evening. Benvolio met him; Romeo was still upstairs. 

“Is she here?” Mercutio asked in a half-whisper. 

“Who?”

“That girl.”

“No.”

“Is she coming?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if Romeo ever asked her. He hasn’t really been talking to me.”

Mercutio shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with his bag. “I feel kinda bad,” he admitted finally. “I didn’t mean to, like, say that Romeo shouldn’t have friends besides us…” 

Benvolio perched on the back of the living room sofa. “Maybe you guys should talk.” 

Mercutio tensed when he heard Romeo coming down the stairs. For a moment, they looked at each other uncertainly. 

“Hey,” Romeo said finally. 

“Hey.” Mercutio bit his lip. “Listen, I’m sorry I said that girl couldn’t come.”

“Her name’s Greta.”

“Greta. I just…it means a lot to me that we do this every year together. Doing it with a bunch of other people like last year isn’t really the same. Or like, if it had been a bunch of people from our class…I don’t really know how to explain what the difference is. I just felt bad…” Mercutio fidgeted, looking down. They all knew he hated apologizing, or even being serious about anything, so the effort was worth a lot on its own. 

Romeo sighed and went to sit beside Benvolio on the back of the couch. “It’s ok. I didn’t ask you guys if you minded either. I was just confused why you were so angry. It’s not…it’s not like she was going to _replace _you. No one could do that.” 

There was a moment of awkward silence. “Can we just agree that you guys are cool now and we don’t have to fight about this anymore?” Benvolio asked, hopefully. 

Mercutio and Romeo nodded in agreement. 

“Good. So, is that—is Greta coming?”

Romeo shook his head, looking a little dejected again. ‘She didn’t like my card. She said she thinks spiders are gross.” 

Mercutio choked down a laugh. When Romeo turned to glare at him, Mercutio held up both hands in surrender and grinned. “Her loss then. We always get the best candy hauls.”

Romeo grinned back at him, his dejection instantly forgotten. “Yea—let’s go before it gets too late.”


	7. Can You Feel the Drink Tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio has hatched a new prank: get Benvolio drunk. Fictober prompt: “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“We should get drunk,” Mercutio said. 

Romeo looked up from his phone, eyebrows shooting up. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” Mercutio’s grin said everything Romeo needed to know, even if he _hadn’t _heard. “We should get drunk. My mom bought so much alcohol for this party, no one will even notice if some of it’s gone.” From downstairs, the _thump thump _of the music seemed to confirm Mercutio’s words. 

“We’re not gonna go trick-or-treating?”

Mercutio shrugged. “We’ll still go for a bit, it being tradition and all. But what does that have to do with getting drunk? Val is at a friend’s house for the night, so it’s not like I have to babysit. Thank God.”

Romeo hesitated. There _was _something appealing about trying the stuff that made all the adults happy and even a little loopy. Especially if they were doing it without permission. It was exciting. But he wasn’t sure of it was smart to go out in that state or if they should really drink so much that their parents would notice. “We should wait for Benvolio to get here. He just texted me that they’re about done so he should be here soon.”

“Tell me,” Mercutio said, flopping down dramatically onto his bed. “Why is he such a nerd? Like, seriously, who even cares about the science fair?”

“It’s extra credit.”

Mercutio snorted. “Why aren’t you doing it then?”

Romeo stared at his phone and tried not to blush. “I didn’t qualify.” Benvolio was the sort of student who did reasonably well in every subject, without really struggling or excelling in anything particular. Romeo, on the other hand, skewed heavily toward the humanities and languages. He gobbled up everything that was assigned in Literature class and wrote the sort of essays teachers displayed on their walls for open house, and only studied in the most perfunctory fashion for history tests. On the other hand, he had almost failed math the prior semester and was constantly in tutoring. Mercutio, who was brilliant, as far as Romeo was concerned, could have easily had straight As if he bothered to apply himself with even the slightest diligence. Instead, his grades vacillated between outstanding and abysmal depending on what mood he happened to be in that month. 

There was silence from the bed for a few moments. Finally, Mercutio said, sheepishly, “Sorry, I forgot you had to qualify.” 

“It’s fine.” Embarrassing as it was, Romeo didn’t mind so much to admit things like that to Mercutio. 

Mercutio sat up. From the look on his face, Romeo could easily tell he had had another idea. “Let’s _not _wait for Benvolio.”

“Why…?”

“Let’s get the alcohol now, make some mixed drinks, and pretend it’s not alcohol at all.” 

Romeo blinked. “I’m really not following you.”

“We should get Ben drunk.”

Romeo laughed. “Seriously? Like what, without him knowing?”

“Yes? Oh, come on, you know if we tell him he’ll whine and complaint and worry and ruin all the fun. He’s so uptight.”

“He’s not uptight.” Romeo laughed. “Ben just doesn’t like it when adults disapprove of him.”

Mercutio shrugged and looked at him expectantly. 

“What if we overdo it? How will we know how much is too much?” Romeo asked, deciding that in Benvolio’s absence it fell to him to put some breaks on Mercutio’s ideas. 

Mercutio at least seemed to consider this. “Well, we’ll try some first. So we know how it goes.” 

This was convincing enough, and Romeo stood up, tucking his phone away into a pocket. “Alright, let’s do this.” 

Mercutio jumped off the bed with a cry of triumph. “That’s what I’m talking about!” 

*

It took them two turns through the kitchen to get everything they needed – cups, a small bowl of sangria-like punch, and a bottle of vodka. The punch, Mercutio said, was mildly alcoholic itself, but so diluted that no one bothered to tell them not to take any. The vodka they took last, snagging it from the edge of the counter with Romeo playing lookout as Mercutio tucked it away under the cloak of his ghoul costume. They sprinted upstairs and locked the door to Mercutio’s room. 

“Let’s start with the punch,” Romeo suggested and poured out two cups, filling them halfway. 

“Cheers!” Mercutio drained his cup all in one go and waited. Romeo, after taking a couple of sips, watched him expectantly. A slow smile crept over Mercutio’s face. “I can feel it!” he announced in a falsetto. 

“What?” 

“The high! The joy! I can fly!” He jumped up on the bed and spun around, nearly falling over. 

“Really?” Romeo looked down into his cup and took a large gulp. 

Mercutio stopped and let himself collapse down onto the mattress, holding out his empty red cup to Romeo for more punch. “No. I just wanted to see your face.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “Be serious. We need to know how much we can let Ben have.”

“This tastes just like fruit punch and I don’t feel anything special,” Mercutio said. 

“I mean, it probably takes some time, “ Romeo said, finishing his cup. 

“We need a more potent weapon,” Mercutio decided and opened the vodka. He smelled it and made a face. “Smells almost like rubbing alcohol.” 

They poured a little into both cups. “Weird. It looks just like water,” Romeo said and took a sip. 

Mercutio burst out laughing. “Your face!” 

“Agh. It tastes kinda gross. Why does anyone like this?”

“I know mom mixes it with other stuff,” Mercutio said. 

“We’re gonna have to if we’re gonna have any luck in convincing Benvolio to drink it.” 

Mercutio tentatively took a sip as well. He had a better time with it than Romeo, his face more thoughtful than disgusted. “It does make you really warm when you get past the taste.” He considered the bowl of punch. “Let’s just put it all in there.”

“_All _of it?” 

“Like a good amount.” Mercutio poured two cups full of the punch for him and Romeo, then emptied about a third of the bottle into the punch bowl. “That should do the trick.” 

Romeo grinned and sipped at his punch. He felt warm and relaxed and suddenly tricking his cousin into drinking vodka didn’t feel like such a bad idea. 

*

Benvolio arrived fifteen minutes later, a little puzzled to find his friends holed up in Mercutio’s room with the door locked, but he didn’t say anything about it. As soon as he came in, Romeo pushed a cup of punch into his hands, which Benvolio accepted without thinking. 

“Did you win anything at the science fair?” Mercutio asked. His expression was mostly unreadable, though Benvolio had the slight feeling that Mercutio was hiding something. Something that made him akin to the cat that got the cream. 

“No, but I wasn’t expecting to. I just wanted the extra credit.” He took a long drink from his cup. “This punch tastes weird.”

“It’s British,” Mercutio said, without missing a beat. “My mom got it at some special store.” 

Benvolio looked at the cup in his hands, then at his friends’ faces. “Is there something you guys aren’t telling me?”

“Nope,” Romeo said and hid behind his own cup. 

“Don’t be so paranoid, Benny. We’ve been drinking this shit for the past half-hour while we waited for your nerdy ass to get here.”

“Benny? Since when do you call me Benny?”

“Since you’ve become paranoid.” 

Benvolio looked unconvinced. Mercutio sighed and poured himself some punch from the bowl. “It’s just punch, see?”

Benvolio shrugged, deciding to let it go, and finished off the cup, then poured himself another. “So what are we doing?”

*

Romeo had never heard Benvolio _giggle _so much in his life. Mercutio had the biggest shit-eating grin, but Benvolio didn’t even notice that something was off. 

“Alright, Ben, truth of dare?” Mercutio asked, his own cheeks a little flushed, though he had had nowhere near as much of the spiked punch as Benvolio. 

“Truth!”

“Which girl do you wanna see naked.” 

Romeo snorted a laugh as Benvolio turned bright red. “Mercutio, that’s, that’s very-very rude and that makes me sad. But really, there are so many pretty girls. We make fun of Romeo all the time for it, but the girls are just _damn. _Like have you seen Mia Figaro? In her gym clothes?”

“Oh my God,” Mercutio said, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. “You’re just like Romeo. Why. Agh. Your turn, Romeo, truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“Kiss a guy or kiss a female goat?”

“What the hell, Mercutio?”

Benvolio fell over laughing. “Can you imagine Romeo writing love poems to a goat? Dear goat, you are in my every dream! Heee!” 

“I think we need to stop letting him have that punch,” Romeo muttered. 

Mercutio didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, Romeo, answer the question.”

“A guy, I guess? Why the fuck would I kiss a goat?”

“But do you want to…kiss…a guy….though. Thaaaat’s the question,” Benvolio drew out with a giggle. “My turn. Mercutio, truth or dare?”

“Since I’m the only brave one around here… Dare.” 

“I dare you to kiss Romeo.” 

“Oh no,” Romeo sighed. 

Mercutio was bright red. “Well, I guess I have to,” he said, turning to Romeo. 

“Oh, come on,” Benvolio said, lying down on the carpet and looking up at them with a wide grin. “It’s not hard. Why are you so red? I would kiss you guys. It’s just love. Like you can’t believe how much love I feel right now. I’m so happy, you guys. Your room is weird, Mercutio. The walls move at random. But it’s nice. It’s warm and smells nice.” 

“Mom is gonna kill us,” Romeo said. 

Mercutio was still looking at him with the expression of a deer caught in headlights. Then, all at once, he grinned, leaned forward and gave Romeo a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “There, happy?” he asked Benvolio. 

Benvolio gave a giggle and hid face in his arms. “Can I have one too?” he asked, peeking up at Mercutio. 

“What am I? The kiss dispenser?”

Romeo snorted. “You are now.” 

Mercutio rolled his eyes, crawled forward and gave Benvolio an equally sloppy kiss. Benvolio put both arms around Mercutio’s shoulders and hung on him. “Guys…I don’t think that punch was very normal,” he said, his voice getting drowsy. 

“Should we tell him?” Mercutio asked, looking over at Romeo, as he clumsily tried to untangle Benvolio from himself. 

“Tell me what?”

Romeo tossed a bag of M&Ms at him and it hit Benvolio in the forehead, making him yelp in surprise. “You’re really drunk.” 

“Drunk? Why am I drunk?” Benvolio looked honestly bewildered. Mercutio finally managed to untangle himself from Benvolio. 

“Because we put vodka in the punch.” 

“You put…you…” For a few seconds, Benvolio froze up as his brain refused to process the information. Then, with a screech, he lunged at Mercutio and tackled him. Both of them being inebriated meant that the tussle was more flailing about and laughter from Mercutio than anything close to an actual fight. 

Romeo just grinned at them, thinking that he felt a little too warm and a little too sleepy and that they ended up not going trick-or-treating after all but that this was better in its own way. _It’s just love, _Benvolio had said, and Romeo figured that he had to be right. 

*

“How mad was your mon?” Mercutio asked, sitting down next to Romeo in first period. 

“Mad.”

“I guess she took away your phone since I couldn’t reach you all weekend.”

“Yea. She didn’t ground Benvolio though, since he didn’t _mean _to get drunk.”

Mercutio scoffed. “Please. He enjoyed it.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Benvolio insisted from behind Romeo, but he had to bite his lip to hide the small smile that forced itself onto his face. 

Mercutio shrugged and said, just as the bell rang, “My mom was pissed too. But it was worth it.”


	8. Queen Mab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio comes out to Romeo. Fictober prompt: “You could talk about it, you know?”

“You could talk about it, you know?” Romeo sat down at the kitchen table with that expression that said, _I’m listening. _

Mercutio gave him a look but continued to pace the length of the kitchen, fidgeting nervously, clearly in that state where staying in motion was actually helping, rather than hurting. “There isn’t really anything to talk about,” he said, sounding more resigned than angry. “My family just hates me, or at best wishes I was someone else.”

“I’m sure that’s not—” Romeo broke off at Mercutio’s sharp look and ran a hand over his face, trying o find a better phrasing for what he wanted to say. “I really don’t think they hate you. I don’t think your mom hates you. Or Val.”

“Val is six. He doesn’t really hate anyone.” 

“Do _you_ hate him?”

Mercutio spun around and glared at Romeo from the opposite corner of the kitchen like a caught wild animal. “No, of course not. I just…I just wish I wasn’t expected to act like his mother or something.” Apparently giving up on trying to release his emotional tension into the pacing, Mercutio went to sit across from Romeo at the table. He looked down and picked aimlessly at the placemat, unwilling to meet Romeo’s eyes. “It’s not really about him. It’s not like I’m surprised that Jacob loves him more – he wants to act like my father, but he isn’t. _My _father is God knows where doing whatever deadbeat dads do.” He shrugged, as thought to convey that this fact didn’t bother him, even though Romeo could clearly tell that it did. “You know, I shouldn’t really care. Fine, he married my mom, I was just kind of there. I don’t expect him to love me or anything, but if that’s the case, then why does he fucking think he gets to tell me what to do? My mom says that he practically raised me, that I’m _like _his son. That’s bullshit.” 

“I know you don’t really get along,” Romeo said, for want of anything better to say, but feeling like he needed to show that he was listening and participating. 

“Yea…maybe if I went out and made the football team or something it would be different, you know? And then he goes and pits Mom against me too.” Mercutio puffed out his chest and said, in a false baritone, “_Oh, Clarissa, you let Mercutio run wild. Oh, Clarissa, he should be learning how to be a man. Oh, Clarissa, talk him into trying a _real _sport._”

Romeo snorted a laugh, then winced, remembering that Mercutio had in fact tried out for the football team the previous year after constant nagging by his stepfather, and ended up with a sprained ankle and enough embarrassment to put him into a foul mood for a week. Benvolio had sworn that the other boys had gone after him on purpose. Mercutio was not bad at sports, as such. He was a good swimmer and an excellent dancer. He took a fencing lesson at a local Renaissance fair once and loved it. Nor would Mercutio ever shy away from a fight or a competition – Romeo knew that well enough. But something about the _culture_ of things like football put Mercutio on edge. His good looks, sharp tongue, endless charm, and willingness to fight everyone and everything at the drop of a hat saved him from being the target of bullies, but Romeo had begun to notice that some of Mercutio’s fancies, choice In dress, and genuine love for drama class, made certain other boys look at him strangely. Romeo wondered if he got the same types of looks from his stepfather at home. 

“You’re too smart for the football team anyway, “ Romeo said. “Everyone on that team would fail their classes if the school wasn’t so interested in their parents continuing to pay the tuition fees.” 

Mercutio smiled weakly over at him and shrugged again. “You know…when I was younger, I wanted Jacob to be my dad. I don’t even remember my dad at all, and he acts like I don’t exist anyway, so… Jacob acted like he wanted to be my dad and I wanted one too, so you’d think we would make it work. People adopt kids who aren’t babies and become their parents and all, so it’s not impossible. But I could never be the right _good enough._ And now I’m not even good enough for my mom.” 

Romeo chewed on his lip. “Maybe it’s just that Valentine is so little and he needs a lot more attention? My mom says there’s no such thing as being good enough when you’re family. She says mothers love their kids unconditionally.”

“Yea, but _your _mom actually encourages you and Benvolio to do whatever it is you guys want to do. She probably doesn’t get all judgmental when you tell her you write sappy love poems under your blankets.”

“Hey! I don’t do it under—it’s not like I’ve let her read any—” Romeo looked away, breaking off mid-protest. “She says I should do whatever makes me happy as long as I keep my grades up,” Romeo admitted quietly. 

“See, that’s what I mean. It’s not about Val. He gets attention, sure, but that’s because he’s little and…I’m a lost cause to them.” 

Romeo shook his head. “Don’t say that. You’re not a lost cause.” 

Mercutio got up and began to pace again, stopping in the far corner of the kitchen, pressing into the corner between the counter and the wall, as though trying to hide from something. “It’s only going to get worse, you know? When they find out…”

“What do you mean – worse?” Romeo stood as well and went to stand in front of Mercutio, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Find out what?” He reached out to touch Mercutio’s arm, but Mercutio flinched away from him, making Romeo stop mid-step, mouth slightly open. His mind raced, trying to figure out what could possibly be so bad. Mercutio was expressive and short-tempered, so there were few things he could hide for too long before the people close to him caught on. “Did you do something…bad? Illegal?”

Mercutio shook his head. 

“Something they wouldn’t approve of? I thought the signing up for ballet thing was a joke?”

Mercutio snorted. “It _was. _I didn’t sign up for fucking ballet. It’s just…it’s not something I _did._”

Romeo squinted at him. “Then what?”

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Mercutio tried to push past him, but Romeo put both hands on his forearms and held him in place. 

“Please tell me.” Romeo’s imagination was starting to get carried away and he imagined the most outlandish things that this could mean. Worse that Mercutio was not telling him, even as he looked small and pale against the granite kitchen counters, too terrified to meet Romeo’s eyes. “Mercutio, you’re scaring me.” 

“I don’t even know if it’s true or maybe I’m tripping.” 

“I can’t help you figure it out if you won’t tell me what it is.” 

Mercutio took a deep breath and said in a rush, “I think I like guys.” 

For a moment, Romeo stared at him, processing the new information. It was somehow shocking and completely expected at the same time. “You think you’re gay?” he asked, finally, unusually calm, finally closing the space between them and putting both hands on Mercutio’s forearms. 

Mercutio looked up at him, uncertainty and fear battling defensiveness and tentative trust in his eyes. “I don’t know. But maybe.” 

Romeo nodded, the information finally sinking in. It didn’t really change anything. There was no reason why it should, and the last thing Romeo wanted was for Mercutio to think he felt weird about this. But he didn’t know what to say. Everything that came to mind somehow sounded too cliché, too fake. He knew that was a common criticism of his poetry, but this was more important. He couldn’t afford to sound disingenuous when Mercutio was looking at him like _that, _like his opinion could either make or break Mercutio’s entire world. 

He wanted to say that it didn’t matter. Something so natural, so simple, shouldn’t matter to anyone who loved Mercutio. But what if Mercutio’s family did care? Saying something like that would only makes things worse. “It’s going to be alright,” Romeo promised. _Somehow. Even if things don’t work out at home. _“I’m always here.” 

Mercutio gave him a watery smile and was about to respond when voices from the hall made him stop. Romeo took a step back and let go of Mercutio just as Benvolio came in with Valentine. “Val has given me a tour of the entire house,” Benvolio announced, giving Romeo and Mercutio a knowing smile over Valentine’s head. He and Romeo knew Mercutio’s house almost as well as their own, but Valentine didn’t need to know that his efforts had gone to waste. “Should we start getting ready to head out? It’s getting dark.” He looked at Romeo with an expression that clearly asked: _Did you figure out what his mood was all about?_

__Romeo glanced at Mercutio who shrugged. There was no reason to hide anything from Benvolio that he had already told Romeo. If two of them knew something, all three knew. “Later,” Romeo mouthed, then said in a normal voice, “We really should, since Mercutio is going to need a _lot _of face paint.” 

Valentine huffed and looked up at Benvolio. “Mercutio wanted to go as a fairy, but Mom and Dad said no, so he’s going as a clown and making me wear a stupid costume.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Mercutio insisted. 

“It’s a yellow raincoat.”

“That’s what the character wears, I told you,” Mercutio said. “Our costumes match.”

“I don’t get it.”

Mercutio gave Benvolio and Romeo a long-suffering look. “I tried to convince Mom to let Val watch IT with me, but noooo.”

“That’s…probably for the best,” Benvolio said. 

“Listen.” Mercutio kneeled down to Valentine’s eye level and grasped his shoulders. “You do this for me and don’t complain to Mom and Dad, and I’ll give you half my candy and we can watch your red balloon fly away at the end of the night. Deal?”

Valentine pouted but nodded after a moment. “Ok.” 

“Good. Go get dressed and play while I put my makeup on.”

Benvolio watched Valentine skip out of the kitchen, satisfied with the promise of extra candy. “So, you weren’t bullshitting when you said you wanted to go as a fairy.”

“Not just _a _fairy,” Mercutio said in mock offense. “Queen Mab! The fairies’ midwife and empress! She’s no bigger than an agate stone and drives around in wagon made of a hollow chestnut, covered with grasshopper wings, whipping her troika of atomies with a whip made of crickets’ bones!’ Mercutio climbed up on a chair and gestured expansively. “She drives over the noses of men as they sleep and makes politicians dream of favors, and lawyers of fees. Girls dream of kisses and lovers—” he glanced over at Romeo and smirked, “—dream of love!” 

Benvolio shook his head with a fond smile. “Mercutio is off his meds again.” 

Romeo took a step forward and tugged on Mercutio’s arm. “Get down, dumbass. If we don’t start on your makeup now, we’ll never get out of here.”


	9. You Keep Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio has begun to figure out that he feels more than friendship for Romeo. To Mercutio's dismay, Benvolio has figured this out too. Fictober prompt: "You keep me warm."

It was just like Romeo to have the bad luck to need to get his wisdom teeth pulled in almost emergency fashion on Halloween. Mercutio, to cheer him up, joked that if one was to have a surgery on a cavity-causing holiday, then it might as well be a teeth-related one. While the situation did provide opportunity for Mercutio’s puns and jokes, it messed up their party plans. Mrs. Montague had events to attend that evening, so Benvolio volunteered to stay home and keep an eye on Romeo, who apparently had no tolerance for narcotic painkillers whatsoever and was soon as high as a kite. Mercutio, for his part, did not much feel like going out alone, especially with Romeo constantly sending him texts that ranged from hilariously ridiculous, to confusing, to actually sympathy-inducing.

Instead, he showed up at the Montages house with a slushy and strode right in when Benvolio opened the door. 

“Glad to know you live here too,” Benvolio called after him, unable to quite hide an amused smile. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Mercutio called over his shoulder, although, of course, no one had technically invited him. 

Romeo was curled up on the couch with an icepack and his phone. “Why aren’t you at the party?” he asked, looking up when Mercutio came in. 

“I’d ask you how you’re doing, but you’ve already told me…” Mercutio made a show of checking his phone. “Five times in the past two hours.” 

Romeo made a noise of protest but didn’t find any actual arguments in response. 

“I brought you a slushy. Heard ice helps.”

“He can’t use straws,” Benvolio said, appearing at Mercutio’s shoulder. 

Mercutio rolled his eyes. “I know. I grabbed a spoon.”

“How do you know tha—you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” He went to sit on the couch. “You should have gone to the party. We were just going to watch a movie.” 

“Nah,” Mercutio shrugged and went to sit beside Romeo, handing him the slushy and plastic spoon. “I heard it was lame anyway.” He had heard no such thing, but he didn’t want things to feel awkward, or for his friends to think that he had no life outside of them. Which wasn’t true. Obviously. “What are we watching? I suggest IT or A Nightmare On Elm Street.” 

“Nooo,” Romeo drew out, the edges of his words slurring just a little. Mercutio couldn’t tell if that was an effect of the surgery or because he was high on the pain medication. “I want to watch a _happy _Halloween movie. Like…Hocus Pocus or Halloweentown.” 

Benvolio rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. We haven’t watched those since we were like eight.”

“Good! We won’t remember the plot. Come on, we just watched IT.” 

“Like last year!” Mercutio put in, aghast. 

“I didn’t say it had to be IT. Mercutio just _always_ wants to watch IT.”

“Hey! That’s not true!”

“But just…a Disney movie, really?”

Romeo pouted. “It doesn’t have to be _Disney_. They’re just fun.” Somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, Romeo determined that Mercutio was going to be the weakest link and gave him the biggest puppy-eyed look he could possible manage. 

Mercutio sighed, forced to admit that Romeo’s calculation was correct. “Ben, just let him choose.” He poked Romeo lightly in the side. “He’s _suffering._”

“I am!” 

“Fine. Let’s watch Hocus Pocus. It has that one hot chick and a cute cat, at least.” 

“Oh shit!” Mercutio grinned. “Benvolio actually thinks someone is hot!” 

“Shut up, asshole,” Benvolio muttered, flushing slightly, as he navigated through the television’s Netflix app. 

“Thank you,” Romeo said, looking up at Mercutio through his eyelashes.

Mercutio grinned to hide the odd jolt in his stomach. “Take your victory while you can. Next Fortress 2 comes out in three days and I’m gonna own both your asses so hard.” 

“Yea right,” Benvolio said, sitting back as the title logos of the movie started. “I beat you like half the time at that game.” 

“Lies!” 

“Why is it so cold?” Romeo asked. 

Benvolio glanced over at him, his brows furrowed for a moment. “You’ve probably just got chills. Here.” He grabbed a throw blanket from the loveseat and threw it over Romeo. 

Romeo instantly turned himself into a blanket burrito. He looked over at Mercutio, hesitating as though making a decision, then scooted over and snuggled into his side. “You keep me warm,” Romeo said, in a tone that made it impossible to distinguish whether this was a command or merely a statement. At Mercutio’s obvious hesitation, Romeo looked up, not bothering to shake the curls that fell over his forehead out of his eyes. “Can I stay here?”

“I told you he’s high,” Benvolio said, giving Mercutio a sympathetic look. 

Mercutio swallowed. He had never felt so awkward in his life. Romeo was warm and soft against his side and Mercutio felt as though the bottom of his stomach was slowly falling out. He wanted to get rid of that feeling as fast as possible, but on the other hand, pushing Romeo away felt impossible. He could just imagine the hurt, kicked kitten look on Romeo’s face, and his heart contracted painfully just thinking about it. He bit his lip and rolled his eyes at Benvolio over Romeo’s head to hide his momentary confusion. “Fine. Alright. You can stay,” Mercutio said, only partially feigning annoyance. He could feel Benvolio’s eyes on him for a second too long but pretended as though nothing was off. The movie had started. 

It took a few minutes, but finally Mercutio was able to relax, even though the feeling of Romeo’s weight against his side was distracting. Not uncomfortable, but he kept _thinking _about it instead of paying attention to the movie. Romeo’s head was on his shoulder, the tips of his dark curls tickling Mercutio’s chin. His hair smelled like mint shampoo. Mercutio bit his lip and wound an arm around Romeo’s shoulders. He told himself it was because Romeo was shivering, and he was simply trying to be a good friend. He was too acutely aware of every movement Romeo made and of his own body’s unwitting responses. He wanted to bury his face in Romeo’s hair and, at the same time, to run and hide somewhere until he could make better sense of the confused tangle of emotions burning a hole in his chest. 

Somehow, he made it through the movie. 

Romeo didn’t move and Mercutio quickly realized that he had fallen asleep. Benvolio was watching them again with an unnerving amount of interest. “What?”

Benvolio wiggled his eyebrows. “You want some tea?”

“Ah…” 

“There’s left over pizza.” Benvolio stood. 

Mercutio looked between Benvolio and Romeo, who was obliviously asleep on his shoulder. 

Benvolio rolled his eyes. “Let him sleep. Come on.” 

Mercutio could tell from his tone that Benvolio had something he wanted to talk about. Mercutio could also tell that it was probably _not _a conversation he would want to have. Carefully, he extracted himself from Romeo and deposited his sleeping friend on the couch, then followed Benvolio into the kitchen with a mounting feeling of dread. 

Benvolio stood watching the tea kettle, which glowed blue when it was turned on. A pizza box sat closed on the kitchen counter. Mercutio discovered two slices inside but closed the box without taking one. He didn’t feel particularly hungry. Benvolio was still quiet, the look on his face thoughtful. Mercutio leaned against the counter next to him and huffed in frustration. “Oh, come out with it, Benvolio.” 

Benvolio took a deep breath. “Are you going to tell him?”’

“Who?”

“Romeo.”

“Tell him what?”

Benvolio finally looked up from the tea kettle to give Mercutio a deadpan stare. “Really?”

Mercutio stared back, only somewhat confident that he could win a battle of wills against Benvolio. 

“Are you going to tell _me_?” There was a sincerity in Benvolio’s voice that made Mercutio feel guilty. The water in the tea kettle began to bubble as it boiled, rumbling softly. 

Mercutio looked away and scuffed at the tiled floor. It looked pale and washed-out in the bright, white kitchen lights. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you.” He was almost telling the truth. With Romeo Mercutio would have laughed and made up some story, distracted and misdirected until Romeo got tired of him or allowed himself to be led astray into a less thorny subject of conversation. But Benvolio was a lot harder to knock off course once he latched onto something. That didn’t mean Mercutio knew what to tell him. 

“So, you don’t think…you don’t think anything has changed between you and Romeo?” 

“I don’t think so,” Mercutio said stubbornly, refusing to meet Benvolio’s eyes. 

“I saw your face when he decided to snuggle with you.” 

Mercutio bit the inside of his lip hard enough for it to bleed. He could hardly describe his own feelings to himself; explaining them to Benvolio seemed impossible, not to mention embarrassing. 

“You can trust me.” Benvolio reached out to touch Mercutio’s shoulder in a gesture he certainly meant to be reissuing. 

Mercutio rounded on him in frustration. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Ben? What is it that you think I should say? Why do you even care?”

Benvolio looked hurt. “I care because I’m your friend. And Romeo’s.”

“You’re a nosy asshole is what you are.” Mercutio looked away again so he wouldn’t have to confront the hurt on Benvolio’s face, and pulled himself up to sit on the counter, swinging his legs despondently. 

The tea kettle clicked off and Benvolio busied himself with pouring tea without saying anything further. 

It took all of two minutes of silence for Mercutio to break. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Benvolio only shrugged in response. “Come on, man. You’re putting me on the spot here. I’m not Romeo. I can’t just like…word-vomit all my feelings.” 

Benvolio handed him a cup of tea, which Mercutio cradled against his chest. He wasn’t much of a tea drinker but the heat was comforting. Benvolio, clutching his own cup, perched on the counter next to Mercutio. “I’m not mad. I just thought… I thought it might be easier for you to talk to someone about it if you weren’t going to tell Romeo. I’m not wrong though, am I? You _do _like him?”

Mercutio opened his mouth to say,_ of course I like him, he’s my best friend, _and closed it again. There was no point to playing dumb anymore. “I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never really liked anyone before.”

Benvolio scoffed. “Oh please. I know your computer is full of porn.” 

Mercutio shook his head. “It’s not the same, though.” He stared into his cup, as though hoping to find some answers floating in there. “He’s my friend but then I want to, like, I don’t know…kiss him all the time. And I really fucking hate it when he goes on about girls. I thought it was just because he’s so annoying about it but…” 

“Well, he is annoying about it,” Benvolio offered. 

For a moment, they were quiet. “I don’t want to be in love, Ben,” Mercutio said finally, quietly, a note of childish pleading in his tone, as though Benvolio could somehow help him will his feelings away. 

“Why not?”

Mercutio ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Because it’s stupid.” 

“Romeo likes it.”

Mercutio made a face. 

“A lot of people like it.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Benvolio rolled his eyes. “We’re not talking about me. Besides I’ve never been in love with anyone, so how would I know if I like it?”

“Typical Benvolio. Always so sensible.” 

“Someone around here has to be.” 

Mercutio let out a long breath. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Romeo only likes girls.” 

“How do you know that?”

Mercutio looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Because he only ever talks about girls? And Romeo talks about liking people _a lot_.”

Benvolio shrugged. “I don’t even know sometimes if it’s specific girls he likes or just like…the idea of them, you know? Maybe he doesn’t think he _should _talk about liking guys.” 

“With us? Why the fuck not? Besides, I never thought of your aunt as someone who’d care.” 

“I don’t know if she would or wouldn’t. It’s not like it’s ever come up. But I think Romeo has this very specific idea of what certain parts of his life are supposed to look like…”

“Really?” Mercutio was unconvinced. Romeo had no particular streak for rebellion but neither did he work particularly hard at fitting in. 

“Auntie has started talking to Romeo about like…his future and shit. What college he needs to get into, who he should start talking to when we’re out at functions with her… I think she wants him to, you know, carry on the family legacy or something.” 

Mercutio scoffed. “Like what? Go into politics? Romeo in politics? That’s absurd.” 

Benvolio nodded in agreement. “Yea, but I think it’s come up. He doesn’t really…talk about it. I think he just kind of hopes it will go away on its own, you know?”

“Sounds like Romeo.” 

“And being in politics, especially out here, it’s like…you have to be _respectable_. You need a wife and 2.5 kids and a dog.”

Mercutio snickered, but stopped when he realized how serious Benvolio looked. “Is this really an issue? Romeo’s never mentioned…” 

Benvolio shrugged and took a long drink of his tea before answering. “I don’t know. I might be overthinking things.”

“I still don’t know what that all has to do with liking guys. It’s not like you can help it,” Mercutio said, not quite managing to curb the petulant note in his tone. 

“I think you should tell him how you feel,” Benvolio said after a pause. “You’ll never know for sure if you don’t tell him.” 

Mercutio shook his head, setting his shoulders in a way Benvolio would recognize as a sign he’d made up his mind. “No. It will only ruin our friendship.” 

“It doesn’t have to. Even if he doesn’t…like you back.”

“But it will. Shit like this always does. And if I have to choose between our friendship and the very-very uncertain possibility that I’d get to kiss him, I choose to keep my friend.” 

Benvolio hooked one ankle around Mercutio’s, ostensibly to get him to stop absentmindedly kicking the bottom cabinets. Mercutio stilled, but Benvolio kept their ankles intertwined. “I could maybe try to find out for you if he likes you back?” Benvolio offered, though he sounded uncertain. 

Mercutio gave him a small smile. “No, don’t. I’ll get over this. It’s stupid anyway.” Mercutio untangled his foot and slid off the counter. He glanced over his shoulder and gave Benvolio one of his bright, airy smiles that invariably closed any serious conversation. “Thanks, though.” 

Benvolio rolled his eyes and jumped off the counter as well. “Sure thing.” He watched Mercutio grab a slice of the leftover pizza, his mood apparently improved. “You wanna go upstairs and play something?”

“Do you have a sharpie?” Mercutio asked around a mouthful of pizza. 

“…Why?”

Mercutio grinned. “I wanna draw a dick on Romeo’s face while he’s sleeping.”


	10. The Risk That I'm Taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo gets ditched by his date to the school dance. Mercutio does his best to make him feel better (and gets a dance for his trouble). Fictober prompt: "Listen. No, really listen.”

Sophomore year, Romeo managed to secure himself a date to the Halloween dance. 

Even Mercutio, who spent the week prior to the dance teasing and trolling a blissfully happy Romeo, and purposefully avoiding all of Benvolio’s concerned looks, had to admit that they made a nice picture. Romeo glowed with the triumph of finally getting a pretty girl to go out with him and Rosaline, with her charming dark curls and bright smile, was enviably stunning. 

Mercutio had told everyone that Benvolio was his date so that girls would stop asking him to go with him. Benvolio didn’t particularly mind, as he found himself with little interest in dating and he would rather spend the evening with his friends than making small talk with a girl he barely knew, who made him nervous and, probably, expected something from him. 

As soon as they arrived, Romeo dragged Rosaline off to dance while Mercutio made a beeline for the refreshments table, followed by Benvolio. “You’d think your parents didn’t feed you the way you go for the food first at every event,” Benvolio said, picking up a cup of green punch as Mercutio considered the skull and pumpkin-shaped cookies. 

“My mother has recently decided she will only shop at Whole Foods and buy nothing but healthy produce. Which means I’m constantly starving for anything that has actual taste.” 

Benvolio couldn’t quite stifle a laugh. “Are you going to dance?” he asked. 

Mercutio rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Benvolio, will you dance with me?”

“Somehow I think this is a bad idea.” 

“Mmm.” Mercutio was only half paying attention to him, more interested in watching the crowd of dancing students. The gym was decorated with glow-in-the-dark bats and skeletons. Small, glowing pumpkins lined the walls, their triangular eyes twinkling merrily. Strobe lights in purple, orange and green pulsed across the dancefloor, melting in the haze created by the smog machines. “How long do you think it’s going to take Romeo to start sucking face with that girl?”

Benvolio grimaced. “Not something I want to imagine. Please.” 

Mercutio looked over at him. “Come on, let’s bet on it.” 

“No.” 

“You’re no fun.”

Benvolio sighed. “I think he actually really likes this one. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I think for once Romeo actually likes the girl herself and not just the_ idea_ of having a girlfriend.”

Mercutio pretended to not hear him. “I bet he’ll try something within like ten minutes and freak her out.” 

“Stop.”

“Alright, fine. Half an hour.” 

“I don’t want to bet against Romeo’s happiness just because you’re jealous.”

Mercutio gave him a betrayed look. “First of all, I’m not jealous of Miss Sexy Nun. Second, how am I betting against Romeo’s happiness here exactly?”

Benvolio looked at him steadily, waiting for Mercutio’s sense of decency to set in, which sometimes took a while. 

Finally, Mercutio deflated. “Help me out here, Ben,” he said in a tone soft enough to almost not be audible over the music. 

Benvolio sighed and shook his head. “The things I do for friendship. Come on, you can teach me to dance, as you’ve been threatening all week. I _am _supposed to be your date, after all.” 

About half an hour later, they went looking for Romeo. Mercutio’s mood had been much improved by getting to make fun of Benvolio’s attempts at dancing, and his obvious embarrassed when Mercutio had grabbed him by the hips and tried to dance with him in similar fashion to all the other couples around them. For Benvolio’s part, he simply could not understand the attraction of a dance that mostly involved one person rubbing their butt against their partner’s crotch. 

“You’re just too uptight!” Mercutio told him, his eyes sparkling with amused laughter. “When you find someone to be horny for, you’ll get it.” 

“You’re horny enough for half our class,” Benvolio shot back, grumpily, though he did not feel particularly miffed. Mercutio always meant well, even if it didn’t sound like it. 

“Hey, there’s Romeo!” Mercutio grabbed Benvolio’s hand and dragged him through the crowd, weaving in and out, until they finally reached the side of the dancefloor where Romeo was standing.

Immediately, Benvolio suspected that something was wrong. Romeo was standing alone, looking around a little absentmindedly, holding two cups of punch. “Hey, man. Where’s Rosaline?”

Mercutio went to glue himself to Romeo’s side without hesitation, like a magnet drawn to a sheet of metal, or a moth to a candle. 

“Hey, guys.” Romeo smiled at them, but the excitement in his eyes was gone. “I don’t…know where Rosaline is. I went to get us some drinks and when I came back she was gone. I thought maybe she went to say hello to a friend or to the bathroom or something, but it’s been a while now…” 

Benvolio and Mercutio exchanged looks. “Let’s go look for her,” Mercutio said, grabbing at Romeo’s wrist. Romeo finished off his cup of punch and tossed it in the trash, letting Mercutio grab his freed hand and lead him around the dancefloor. Benvolio followed them. The longer they looked, the more Benvolio began to suspect that Rosaline didn’t simply get caught up talking to her friends somewhere. 

Not finding Rosaline in the gym, Mercutio led them outside, toward the football field. The air was chilly but not too cold, the sky clear and full of stars. Romeo, for a moment forgetting the objective of their search, looked up to admire the sight, the spark returning to his eyes momentarily as he likely got some romantic thought. 

“Now where could your sexy nun be, Romeo?” Mercutio was saying cheerfully as they rounded a corner of the gym. “She must have come outside to pray for the courage to kiss yo—Oh.” Mercutio stopped so abruptly that Romeo and Benvolio ran into him. He turned quickly and tried to push Romeo back the way they had come. “Wrong way,” he said, his voice suddenly tight and nervous. 

But it was too late. Romeo had already seen what Benvolio saw a moment later. Rosaline was pressed against the wall, her head thrown back, and a girl in a Varsity jacket snogging her senseless. Romeo let out a soft sound of dismay. 

Rosaline and the other girl froze, then looked over at them. “Ah, shit,” Rosaline muttered. 

“Rosaline?” Romeo looked helplessly between his date and his friends. “I don’t understand…” 

Mercutio moved to stand beside him and tried to put an arm around Romeo’s shoulders, but Romeo shrugged him off. Benvolio bit his lip. 

“Sorry, Romeo,” Rosaline said, looking a little sheepish. 

“Were you always going to…?”

Rosaline nodded. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. 

“But…why?”

She shrugged. “My parents would kill me if they found out about Susan…” 

“So you needed a beard,” Mercutio snapped. 

Rosaline’s eyes hardened. “It’s also hard to say no when someone asks you three times.” 

Benvolio looked over in askance at Romeo, who suddenly turned bright red. “I only asked once,” he mumbled. “Sorry I did.” He turned on his heal and practically ran into the darkness of the unlit football field, despite Benvolio’s shouts asking him to wait. 

“Did he really ask you three times?” Benvolio asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“Well, technically once. But he put flowers in my locker another time and then wrote me this poem about how he wanted to take me out…” 

“You didn’t have to use him like this,” Mercutio snapped. 

‘You don’t know what it’s like for her,” the girl in the Varsity jacket – Susan – butted in. 

“I know better than anyone!” 

Benvolio stepped closer to Mercutio and put a hand on his forearm, trying to ground him, though he wasn’t sure it would help at all. 

“You didn’t have to use him! Do you have any idea—he spent the entire week dreaming about going to this dance with you. He’s talked about you incessantly for two months. He—Goddamn it, he really likes you! Just tell him you don’t like him if you don’t like him, but he doesn’t deserve—this!” 

“I’m sorry your friend is obsessed with me!”

“Fuck you!” Mercutio turned and ran in the same direction Romeo had gone. 

“Mercutio, wait!” For a moment, Benvolio hesitated, and then Mercutio was gone in the darkness of the football field. He turned back to Rosaline. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have said that,” Benvolio muttered sheepishly. “You could have just told Romeo that you didn’t want to date him, though,” he added mildly. 

“Romeo really can’t take a hint and he’s so…intense,” Rosaline said, calmer this time, but her eyes were still defensive. “I don’t think he means to be a creep but it’s kind of…overwhelming.”

Benvolio nodded absentmindedly. “I’m sure he won’t bother you anymore.” He turned and walked slowly back toward the gym entrance. He texted Romeo to come back, that they could leave and go have ice cream instead, or go home and play Counterstrike, or whatever he wanted, but Benvolio didn’t have much hope that Romeo would respond. It was true that Romeo got very intense about his feelings and he wore them on his sleeve. Especially if he liked someone, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He could be terrible at social cues while in the throes of his emotions and it often led to people misunderstanding his intentions. 

Mercutio, with the help of his phone flashlight, managed to find Romeo tucked into a far corner of the bleachers. He sat curled up, hugging his legs to his chest, and his chin against his knees, staring blankly into the darkness. Mercutio fidgeted for a moment, uncertain how to best approach him, then went to sit beside Romeo so they were shoulder to shoulder. For a few minutes they stayed quiet, until Mercutio finally gave up and said, “Come on, man. She’s not worth freezing over. Let’s just get out of here and do something actually fun.” When Romeo didn’t respond, Mercutio gave him a small nudge. “Ro, come on.” 

“Girls just…don’t like me, huh?” Romeo said, in a deadpan that made Mercutio nervous. 

Mercutio sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was no good at these sorts of conversations. “She likes girls. It’s nothing you did. Nothing you could have done.” 

“But it’s not just her.” He was still staring out into the darkness and Mercutio wished desperately that Romeo would just look at him. “It’s every girl I’ve ever tried to get to like me. I can never do anything right. Remember Madeline? She told me I was lying about liking her because I didn’t try enough. So now I tried harder and, clearly, Rosaline thinks I’m crazy. Otherwise she would have just told me she liked someone else.” 

“It’s hard for her,” Mercutio said without thinking. “Her parents don’t approve of her liking girls.” Romeo glanced over at him and Mercutio bit his lip, realizing he sounded like he wasn’t on Romeo’s side. “Look,” Mercutio went on as Romeo returned to staring into the middle distance. “I wouldn’t put much store into what Madeline said anyway. She’s an attention whore. Most people don’t function that way.” 

Romeo shrugged. “How do _you _do it?”

“What?”

“Get girls to fall in love with you? I swear, there isn’t a single girl in our class who isn’t at least a little into you.” 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Mercutio stared down at his shoes. “Hell if I know. It’s not like I try. I wish they’d stop, to be honest.” 

“Maybe I’m just destined to be alone forever.” 

“Ah, fuck, Romeo, don’t start this shit again.” 

“But seriously! Everything I always do is wrong somehow.” 

“I promise you, there’s _someone _out there who likes you and thinks you’re the best thing to ever happen to them.” Romeo looked around at him and Mercutio was suddenly very grateful for the darkness as he felt himself flush. 

“Thanks,” Romeo said, softly. “But you don’t know that.” 

_I do, _Mercutio wanted to say, but said instead, “I’m sure of it, and one day you’ll know who they are and… All those other girls who don’t like you, screw them. What are their standards anyway?”

Romeo gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, but Mercutio grabbed his shoulders so he wouldn’t be able to turn away again. 

“Listen. No, really listen. You’re smart and funny and kind and the best friend anyone could ask for. And not too unfortunate looking either.” 

Romeo snorted and gave him a small shove. 

Mercutio let his hands slide down Romeo’s arms, coming to rest at his elbows. “I’m serious. I’m not serious about a lot but I’m…serious about this. Any of these girls would be beyond lucky to have you. Besides, you’re never going to be _alone. _Not while you have me and Ben.” 

Romeo reached up and took Mercutio’s hands in his. Their fingers intertwined naturally without them even having to think about it. In the darkness, Mercutio could just barely make out the soft half-smile Romeo was giving him, and it made his stomach knot up painfully. “I’m sorry you’re having to do Benvolio’s job. But thanks. It means a lot.” 

Mercutio stood and pulled Romeo forcefully to his feet. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’m starting to freeze my ass off out here.” He dropped Romeo’s hands and slung an arm casually over his shoulders as they trudged back toward the gym, looking for Benvolio. 

As they came back inside, the steady thumping beat of the music changed to a slower song. Mercutio thought he recognized Beyonce’s “Halo.” Romeo froze beside him. “What’s wrong?” 

“I was going to request they play this song,” Romeo said, gnawing on his lower lip. “I was going to have the DJ dedicate it to Rosaline.” 

Mercutio had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. _Typical Romeo. _He would never be able to tell what bit of insanity or audacity made him find the courage then, but he turned to Romeo and said, “Well, why waste a good song? Dance with me?”

Romeo stared at him. “What?”

This time, Mercutio did roll his eyes. “Will you dance with me?”

“Ah…” Romeo looked around as though looking for a big neon sign with the correct answer on it. When he looked back at Mercutio, there must have been enough pathetic desperation on his face for Romeo to smile and say, “Yea. Alright.” 

Romeo understood his way around dancing better than Benvolio, but there was a nervous awkwardness to it. To putting his arms around Romeo’s waist, pulling him close, smelling the fresh mint of his shampoo as Romeo wrapped his own arms around Mercutio’s shoulders and leaned forward to rest his temple against Mercutio’s. Mercutio closed his eyes and tried to allow his body to find the rhythm of the music to sway to. It only took them a few seconds, but Mercutio felt like the entire world was in slow motion. 

Romeo was warm and fit perfectly into his arms, their chests pressed together. They were two boys, slow-dancing in front of their entire, mildly-conservative grammar school, but to Mercutio it felt like they were the only two people in the word. Just him and Romeo and the pulsing strobe lights, guiding them through the fake smoke into a fairy world where everything was possible. 

Mercutio kept his eyes closed, and tried to memorize every second, every sensation, to engrave the moment on his memory, so he could replay it again and again, in case he never got another one like it. If only that song could last long enough, if only he could hold Romeo close enough, if only… 

Romeo drew back slowly as the last notes of the song faded into a different, upbeat melody. He grinned sheepishly and Mercutio stumbled mentally over every single thing he wanted to say, not finding the right words. 

“Hey guys!” They turned to see Benvolio waving at them from several feet away. Romeo went to meet him, and Mercutio followed, still feeling stunned and a little dizzy from the adrenaline rush he hadn’t realized he had been having until the moment broke. “You guys wanna get out of here? If we hurry, we can still get crispy creams before they close.” 

“Yea, let’s go!” Romeo looked over at Mercutio for his opinion. 

Mercutio shook himself mentally and put on his usual easy grin. “Sounds good.” 

On the way to the donut shop, they talked aimlessly, joking and laughing. Romeo was in a far better mood than anyone could have expected him to be in after what had happened with Rosaline. While Romeo was giving his order, Benvolio nudged Mercutio and asked, quietly, “What did you say to him? I thought he’d be drowning in misery all night.”

Mercutio shrugged, not really focusing on Benvolio, his thoughts still on the dancefloor with Romeo’s cheek pressed against his. “Nothing, really,” he said, absentmindedly. 

“Are you alright?” Benvolio was looking at him curiously. 

Mercutio looked back at him and grinned. “You have no idea.” He gave Benvolio’s arm a friendly slap and they forwent the subject for the rest of the night.


	11. A Tender Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Romeo,” Mercutio tried again, his voice still uneven, but his resolve to keep his feelings to himself fading. The alcohol had warmed him, given him some liquid courage. His hands rested on Romeo’s back and he pressed their foreheads together, letting out a long breath. “I might just kiss you.” _
> 
> Fictober prompt: “I might just kiss you.”

The Halloween fair was touted as a wild success that year. The festival grounds were a couple of empty fields on the edge of town. Most of the attractions were clustered together: a Ferris wheel, a haunted house, Halloween-themed games and games where the prizes ranged from plastic ghosts to witches’ hats to stuffed goblins, several food stands selling all manner of finger food and drinks in a range of Halloween-themed colors. The main festival area was bordered by some hundred carved pumpkins, their eyes and mouths in various shapes beaming and glowing at the festival goers. In the back, beyond the flimsy boundary of jack-o-lanterns, stretched out a track of field, a pumpkin patch harvested nearly clear, strewn with lopsided haystacks and autumn leaves that crunched underfoot. 

Mercutio and Romeo lost track of Benvolio in the crowd somewhere between a dinky, pretend roller-roaster suitable for ten-year-olds and the cotton candy stand at the far edge of the fair grounds. He had stopped to speak with someone – or perhaps they had – and before they knew it, they had lost sight of each other. Mercutio cursed under his breath and fished for his phone, but Romeo grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Wait.”

“What?”

Romeo gave his arm a small tug and Mercutio followed him, curiosity and a bit of excitement prickling across his skin. Romeo was leading him toward the edge of the fair ground, toward the empty pumpkin patch. They crossed the boundary of carved pumpkins and melted into the dark, the sounds from the fair seeming to become more and more muted with every step they took. 

“Romeo, where are we going? Benvolio is going be looking for us.” 

“Hold on. I want to show you…” Romeo ducked behind a tall haystack and sat down on a soft lump of hay at its base, pulling Mercutio down with him. “Look.” He pointed in front of himself and upward. 

Mercutio sat down beside him and tried to follow where Romeo was pointing. The dark pumpkin patch stretched out in front of them, the nearest city lights so far away they were almost indistinguishable. The lights from the fair lingered some at the edges of the sky, bleaching it, behind and just above them. But before them, its black expanse opened up, the cloudless night exposing the canvas of hundreds of stars. Mercutio’s breath caught despite himself. “It’s nice,” he said, trying to not let on too much. The air smelled like hay and winter and a bit of Romeo’s cologne. 

“I just needed to get away for a bit,” Romeo said softly. “I feel like I get…overwhelmed sometimes.”

Mercutio turned to look at him. He grinned and fished a small flask out of an inside pocket “I knew we’d need our friend, Vodka, sooner or later.”

Even in the dark, Mercutio could make out Romeo rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna be an alcoholic one day.”

“Nah. I hate drinking alone. Anyway, it’s too cold just sitting here to not drink.” He took a drink from the flask and handed it to Romeo. Romeo hesitated for a moment, then took a drink. 

“We can go back if you’re cold.” 

Mercutio grabbed his arm to stop Romeo from moving. He didn’t want to go back. Not just yet. “No, I’m fine.” 

Romeo was looking at him, carefully studying him in the darkness that was only barely broken by a watery quarter-moon. “Do you ever…think about the future?” 

“I try to not worry about things I don’t control,” Mercutio said, taking another drink and tipping his head back to rest it against the haystack. He looked up into the sky and tried to not think about Romeo’s eyes on him. Or about Romeo’s eyes at all. 

“Sometimes, I feel like…like something bad is going to happen, like it’s right there on the edge, just around the corner. Like we’re too happy for it to last—Don’t laugh.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Romeo sounded too serious, and Mercutio would not have risked offending him, even if he did think that his friend was too prone to exaggeration. 

Romeo continued. “But even beyond that. Just even the normal things. It’s not necessarily worrying, but…_thinking._ Wondering what it will be like? Where are we going to college? Will we go to the same school? What if we don’t? How often will we see each other? What will we do after? Will we ever find love?”

A slow smile of fond familiarity found itself onto Mercutio’s face, despite the pang that Romeo’s words sent through his chest. So like Romeo to worry about his future love life among a litany of more practical and pressing concerns. “I call that worrying,” he said, without any bite in it, and passed the flask back to Romeo. 

“Well it doesn’t have to be bad. Not if we stay together.” Romeo sat back as well, shifting so that their shoulders pressed snugly against each other. 

“We can make that happen,” Mercutio said quietly. “I’ll go to whatever uni you – and Ben – go to. And we’ll just be as we always were. I don’t really care where it is.” 

“You should. You’re brilliant, you know. You could’ve probably gotten into an Ivey League if you’d put your mind to it to start with. Hell, maybe you still can if you ace the SAT. And you could.” 

Mercutio shrugged. “I guess. I just don’t have that many ambitions in life, I suppose.”

“Really?” Romeo managed to sound genuinely skeptical and mocking at the same time. 

Mercutio turned to him and smirked. “Well, maybe one.”

Romeo turned to face him as well and, suddenly, they were face to face, so close that Mercutio could feel Romeo’s breath against his cheek. “Which is?” 

It would be so easy to shift forward just a few inches and press his lips to Romeo’s, to taste the sweet aftertaste of cotton candy and soda mixed with the bitterness of the alcohol on his lips. To get the answer to the one question that tormented Mercutio more than anything else in the world. _Do I even get a chance? _Romeo’s eyes were dark, the pupils dilated in the dark, his lips parted just barely. “Romeo…” Mercutio breathed out, his voice hoarse, the rest of his thoughts stuck in his throat, his chest expanding with unsaid words fit to burst. 

“Yes?” Romeo reached out and touched his shoulder. “You _are _cold,” he murmured, and his arms wound around Mercutio, gathering him up into a loose embrace. They were still too close, their faces inches away from each other. Laughter and cheering carried to them from the festival grounds, faded by the distance, almost earie in the darkness. A cold breeze whipped through Mercutio’s hair and he and Romeo pressed instinctively closer to each other. 

“Romeo,” Mercutio tried again, his voice still uneven, but his resolve to keep his feelings to himself fading. The alcohol had warmed him, given him some liquid courage. His hands rested on Romeo’s back and he pressed their foreheads together, letting out a long breath. 

“Yea?” The moonlight laced through Romeo’s hair, made his fair skin glow with an ethereal light. Mercutio felt his sense of reality fading slowly around the edges. The distant sounds of the fair faded into almost complete silence in his mind, leaving only the sound of Romeo’s breathing and his own stuttering heartbeat. 

“I might just kiss you.”

For a moment, Romeo only looked at him, long enough for cold dread to begin settling in the pit of Mercutio’s stomach. 

Then he closed his eyes. 

It was all the invitation Mercutio needed, the last of his self-restraint wiped away with a single flutter of eyelashes. He leaned forward and pressed their mouths together, kissing Romeo with a chaste softness that he did not quite feel. There was a flame somewhere behind Mercutio’s ribs, and when his lips captured Romeo’s, it roared into a fire. His fingers tightened against Romeo’s back, one hand sliding up to grasp at the nape of his neck. 

Romeo stayed still for a moment, then, slowly, his lips parted, and he returned the kiss with a soft, deliberate sweetness. His hands moved over Mercutio’s sides, sliding up his shoulders to warp around his neck, even as Mercutio pulled him closer, not quite daring to press much further than capturing Romeo’s top lip between his for a moment, then retreating. 

Mercutio drew back just far enough to be able to see the look on Romeo’s face. In vain, for it was too dark to read the nuance in his expression, and otherwise his face revealed nothing. An unusual, perhaps even frightening, circumstance for Romeo. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Mercutio admitted. 

Romeo’s smile was soft, a little baffled, like he was unsure of what to make of the entire thing. “Have you?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I’ve never kissed a guy before,” he babbled in a half-whisper. “Well, I haven’t kissed anyone before. Have you? Wait, no, I’m saying all the wrong—”

“Romeo? Shut up.” Mercutio couldn’t help but smile. He allowed himself to tangle one hand in Romeo’s hair. “And, yea. For a while. I wasn’t sure if you’d…want to though.” 

Romeo seemed to consider this. If he could read the uncertainty, fear, and, at the same time, delight, that Mercutio felt in his eyes, he did not let on. “Do it again.” 

Mercutio obliged, gladly. This time it was longer, braver. Mercutio’s tongue flicked out to trace Romeo’s bottom lip, only to withdraw quickly when Romeo started and shuddered. But Romeo only pulled him closer, holding on to Mercutio’s shoulder with one hand, the other coming to rest on the nape of his neck. Mercutio let out a soft sound of contentment and _desire._ The fire in his chest grew and burned, demanded that he scoop Romeo into his lap and ravish him right there in the hay for all the stars in the sky to see.

Romeo was gasping when they withdrew, and he practically _was _in Mercutio’s lap. His bottom lip was starting to swell just slightly. The smile that played across his face was half-fascination, half-delight and all warmth. “I do like this,” he said, drawing out the words like he was trying to puzzle out their meaning. 

“Fuck, Romeo,” Mercutio mumbled, not finding anything better to say. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say in that moment. For all the times he had imagined kissing Romeo, he had never prepared for it, never thought about what he would do if that fantasy somehow came true. He wondered if this was the moment when he should ask Romeo out. But that felt too prosaic. Besides, they had already kissed – wasn’t that the whole point of dates? It wasn’t like he and Romeo didn’t already spend the overwhelming majority of their time together. In the movies, this was when all the dramatic confessions of eternal love happened. But those had always made Mercutio roll his eyes – too pretentious, too vapid. “Fuck,” he repeated instead, as the most accurate description of the tangle of feelings warring inside him at that moment. 

Whatever he should have said, _that _clearly wasn’t the right thing, for Romeo’s expression changed. The smile dancing on his lips flickered and faded. He suddenly grew serous. Mercutio froze, waiting for the verdict. Romeo’s hands came up to gently cup his face, the palms of his hands warm against Mercutio’s cheeks. “Merc, I love you,” he said, softly. It sounded so simple, so easy when Romeo said it. It was the most natural thing in the world, somehow, coming from Romeo, and still the words sent a blast of tingling goosebumps down Mercutio’s spine. “I love you so much, and now I’m terrified of hurting you.” 

It should have been a warning, a red flag. But those words, spoken so plainly and genuinely, kept replaying over and over again in Mercutio’s mind, blocking out everything else: _I love you. I love you. _He wanted to say, _I love you, too. _Instead, to address Romeo’s concerns, he said, “Why?”

Romeo shook his head lightly, a gesture that usually meant, _I don’t know. _“I don’t really know what I’m doing. What we’re doing…”

Mercutio gave him an exasperated look, and tried to joke, despite the remaining bits of uncertainty that ate away like acid at him from the inside. “What? Is this that _bad thing _you were afraid would happen?”

Romeo shook his head again, this time sharply, with conviction. “No! It’s…nice kissing you. It’s nice to be like this.” 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Romeo whispered, guilt and embarrassment leaking into his tone. His eyebrows knit together like he was struggling to solve a problem, put something into words that simply wouldn’t materialize into terms he could express. 

Mercutio stroked his hair and smiled encouragingly. “You worry too much.” When Romeo did not respond or relax, Mercutio gave a long sigh. “Nothing has to change,” he said, finally, in defeat. “We can forget this ever happened, if you want.” Every word hurt. 

Romeo must have seen the pain in his eyes because he leaned forward and kissed him again. His lips were soft, tender, a kiss meant to sooth and comfort. “I didn’t say that.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but changed his mind, and leaned in for another kiss. 

Mercutio was not about to deny him. 

“Mercutio! Romeo! Are you two out here?”

They split apart, startled by Benvolio’s voice carrying to them from not very far away. He must have been looking for them for some time, but they had been too wrapped up in the moment to notice. Both of them found missed calls and texts on their phones and exchanged sheepish smiles. They did owe Benvolio an apology for disappearing, although Romeo was the only one likely to actually admit that out loud. 

“I swear if you guys are hiding out here as some kind of prank to scare the shit out of me…” 

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Mercutio whispered into Romeo’s ear. 

Romeo stifled a snort of laughter but shook his head. “Nooo.” He raised his voice, despite Mercutio flapping his hands in protest. “Ben, we’re here!” 

Benvolio cursed under his breath and trotted over to them. He peered around the haystack and glared at them reprovingly. “I spent like the last twenty minutes looking for you. Don’t you hear your phones?”

“Mine was on vibrate and I didn’t hear it. Sorry,” Romeo said sincerely, having the decency to look contrite. 

“What are you guys doing anyway?”

“I was going to scare the shit out of you, but Romeo convinced me not to,” Mercutio said with an impish grin. 

Benvolio rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Come on, let’s go.” He paused, seeming to realize something. “Or…do you…want to stay here?”

Romeo glanced at Mercutio momentarily, then got to his feet, brushing stray hay from his pants and jacket. “No, no, we’re coming.” Mercutio got up as well. 

“While I was looking for you guys,” Benvolio said, “I witnessed the most heartwarming scene: Tybalt Capulet playing Pin the Wart on the Witch at the request of his little cousin. He’s _terrible _at it.” 

“Oh, shit!” Mercutio grinned. “Please tell me you got pictures.”

“Better. I got video.”

“_Yes! _I’m never letting him live this down.” 

Romeo laughed, giving Mercutio a fond, if exasperated, look. “Tybalt’s cousin – that’s the supposedly really pretty one who goes to that all-girls school, right?”

“Yea. Juliet, or something like that.” 

As they walked back toward the fair, Mercutio reached for Romeo’s hand, and Romeo let him hold it.


	12. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio in the aftermath. Fictober prompt: “I never knew it could be this way.”

_Dear Romeo and Mercutio, _

_I’m writing you this letter because the shrink Auntie is making me see has assigned it and I promised that I would make an effort in therapy. Who knows, maybe it will actually help. I do need help, I think. College applications are due in a month and I feel sick just thinking about having to write a personal statement or…do anything really. Maybe it won’t even matter. I’m failing all of my classes right now. Me. Failing. Can you imagine? Of course you can’t, because you’re dead, you assholes. _

_How could you leave me like this? How dare you die on me. Especially you, Romeo. At least Mercutio didn’t actually_ want_ to die. But you thought it would be a good idea to just shoot yourself and leave me all alone. Without saying goodbye. Without even a note. How fucking could you?..._

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Was it my fault? Did you think I hated you because we had fought about Mercutio? Did you think I was so angry with you that I would just leave you alone? That you couldn’t come to me? Did you really think that, you idiot? Jesus, Romeo. I would have done anything—anything… _

_Alright, I was upset. I was angry. How was I supposed to feel when Mercutio called me in the middle of the night and I didn’t know what to say, how to help him because I couldn’t understand what you were feeling? How could a girl you knew for two days be more important that someone you’d known your entire life? Someone you claimed to love? Was it that she was the first girl who retuned your feelings? Is it because almost everyone in your life has been telling you that your future is to marry a girl and own a house with a white picket fence and two kids and you bought into that fantasy? Is it because she understood you in some way none of us could? I still don’t understand… _

_ I know you tried to explain it to me. Maybe I should have listened better. Maybe it was my fault. But getting caught between the two of you is impossible – you’re both always off in your own heads, your feelings turned up to 100 and your communication skills turned down to… Anyway. _

_I know you didn’t mean to hurt him, Romeo. I saw the guilt and the agony in your eyes. I know that guilt is likely what pushed you to the edge after… Add to that killing Tybalt, being on the run, thinking Juliet had killed herself over you… I will never forgive those fucking newspapers for rushing to report something they hadn’t even bothered to confirm. I fucking… Romeo. I pray desperately that I wasn’t on that list of things that made you think you had no hope left. I’m sorry for the awful things I had said to you when we argued. I take them all back. Every single one. I didn’t mean them. I swear to God, I didn’t mean them. I was just upset. _

_I sent you so many texts while you were gone. So many voicemails. I just wanted to know where you were, that you were safe. I just wanted to tell you…to tell you that I’m sorry and that I love you and to, please, let me help. I hope that you never called because you had ditched your phone, not because you thought I wouldn’t listen, that I didn’t care. I can’t stand it, Ro. I can’t stand thinking that you were out there alone and thought you had no one—That you thought my friendship was so frivolous that one bad fight was going to erase all our years together. How could you think that? How could you believe that of me? How…_

_Please. Please forgive me… _

_I hope you guys are together now, wherever you are. That you’ve finally sat down and talked to each other. You never could express properly what you needed, Mercutio. Not when it meant possibly getting hurt. And Romeo just feelings-dumps all over the place with no filter and… I hope you’re together; I hope you’re happy. _

_I don’t know how I got through any of this, guys. How I’m still sane or even alive. I still wake up from nightmares full of sirens and blood. That night keeps replaying in my head in horrifying detail. The light fading out of Mercutio’s eyes. Romeo whispering, “I love you, I love you,” over and over again, as though it were a prayer or a bit of magic that could ward off death… Do you guys remember when we were 8? Auntie got shot at an event and Romeo and I were so afraid she was going to die. I was afraid I’d get put into the foster system and never see you guys again. Romeo and I held on to each other and barely managed to stay afloat. And then you came, Mercutio, and somehow everything was immediately less terrifying. It always was when we were all together. Do you remember that we had promised each other that nothing would ever come between us? No fights, no assholes with guns, not even death… Guess we didn’t quite manage, huh?_

_I kept thinking about it at your funeral, Mercutio. I also kept thinking that you wouldn’t want people to cry and dress in black as they remembered you. You would want them to laugh and play some hideous Lady Gaga song and… I wanted so hard to live up to that, to what you would have wanted. But I couldn’t. It’s like something was tearing me apart from the inside. I didn’t even have Romeo there to lean on… And the best I could do was swallow my tears and try to comfort your brother the best I could. Val loves you, you know. He cried so much… He told me it was so unfair that you had to die “for Romeo.” I don’t blame you for that, for pushing him out of the way. If I had been the one to see the gun, I would have done the same. Romeo would have done the same for either one of us. But Val’s right that you dying isn’t fair. How could it be? You’re the best person I’ve ever know... It should never have been you. <s>If it had to be anyone, it should have been me…</s>_

_And then we got the news about Romeo…It’s like I had known it would happen. That whole day I had just felt like I couldn’t breathe. I tried calling you again, Ro, but your inbox was full and I couldn’t leave a message and I just knew…I don’t even remember the next few days after that. Like my brain has just erased them from my memory… _

_I never knew it could be this way. That it could be possible to feel so alone. It’s Halloween. That used to always be_ our thing_, remember? _

_How am I supposed to live now, you guys? Auntie says, "You'll pull through this," and it's kind of her, really, to think of me when she's grieving too (and a bigger loss, people would say, than I). She says I'll move away to college at the end of the year, won't be reminded by everything of all of this. That I'll make new friends, maybe even "meet a girl" or something. I suppose she's right. I suppose that's what must happen. The only alternative is to kill myself too.<s> And sometimes, I really want to. At least we’d be together then.</s>_

_But that guy, who goes to college and makes some friends, makes out with girls at parties, graduates, gets a job, lives a life like his childhood didn't happen, like none of this happened... I don't know who he is. I suppose I'll wake up one day and realize I'm him, or maybe I'm already him, or maybe I'm in some weird transitional state - I do feel a lot lately like I'm floating. I think...That kid who met his brother-in-all-but-name and his best friend at the age of six when his life was falling apart, that kid who's always felt safe because he had the two best people in the world at his back, the one who laughed and believed that the future was bright and wide open, the one whose insane friends could trick him into thinking that dreams can come true and magic is real... I think he's dead, too, guys. I think he died with you. Without anyone really noticing. And I'm just his ghost, waiting to be reincarnated into that other guy, who lives a life that starts somewhere in freshman year of college. But that kid, the one I've been almost since I can remember myself? He's gone. He could have survived losing one of you, like someone might live with one lung, but both..._

_Who am I even supposed to be without you guys? What am I supposed to do? I pick up the phone and realize I don't have anyone to call. Everything is just a blank space. _

_They tell me I'll make new friends. I try to tell myself that too. But I don't fucking want new friends. I want my old friends back. I want to be that kid again. I'm not ready to bury him too._

_It's always so cold here in October.  
_

*~*~*

There are some wounds that never fully heal. They become manageable, survivable. Sometimes, they even don’t hurt for such long periods of time they almost become forgettable. Until the next small thing that serves as a reminder. It could be anything, really – an old photograph someone posts on facebook, a song, someone’s laughter that sounds a little too familiar, a passerby with just the right shade of hair and eyes. After that, it can take days or even weeks to stop the bleeding. Some wounds simply never quite go away. 

Not everyone can understand that. Benvolio thought that maybe this was why he ended up marrying someone who had lost his first love when they were very young. They had both held people they loved as they died. Had both felt their worlds falls apart. Had both gone through a series of excruciating, baffling, and traumatizing events that left them with the sort of wounds that never quite manage to heal. They could understand each other, the little things that got them sometimes, the off-beat things they needed. 

Like the fact that Benvolio always went back to his hometown on Halloween. Usually, Maddalena Montage would go to visit her nephew for all the major holidays. At some point, living in that same house, that same city became impossible for her, and she sold the house and moved away, closer to Benvolio and her grad-nieces. That was the one year Benvolio went back to his hometown on a day other than Halloween – to help his aunt pack up Romeo’s old room. They gave what they could of Romeo’s old things to charity but could not manage to throw away the rest. They ended up in a small storage unit near Maddalena’s new house. 

There was no reason for Benvolio to go back to his hometown after that. Most would say it was even detrimental to his mental health to do so, to relive the trauma of his teenage years. And, for the most part, Benvolio stayed away. But he always went back on Halloween. 

It did not matter how many years passed, how much he loved his husband and his children, or how much remembering hurt. He refused to abandon his friends, and the way to abandon the dead is to forget them. So he went back and let himself remember. He put flowers on their graves and sat and talked with them for several hours, telling them about what was happening in his life. Going back on Halloween made sense – it had always been _their thing._ That, and Mercutio had once told them that the veil between the worlds was thinnest on Halloween. Of course, sensible, adult Benvolio knew that such things could only be the prattle of an over-imaginative child. And yet… 

And yet, Benvolio could swear that sitting there by their graves on Halloween night, as the sun went down, he could hear their laughter in the wind, could almost feel their arms wrap around him. It hurt, but at least he still had those moments of feeling close to them. He felt them in everything in that town – in every gleam of sunlight, at every familiar street corner, in every breath Benvolio took. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. 

“I love you guys,” he said every time before leaving. 

And every time, the wind whistled in response, a distant chime breaking the silence, the echo of boyish laughter. _We love you too, Ben. _


End file.
